


The Masks We Wear (Parkner Fic)

by CHAR67LOCKED



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bullying, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Fluff, Happy Ending, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener as Iron Lad, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Adopted Child, He just hides them, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Irondad, M/M, MJ knows all, Parley, Partners in Crime, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Protective Harley Keener, So is Aunt May, Telepathic Bond, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Yes homo, happy is so done, harley keener has feelings, my boys - Freeform, parkner, pepper is a boss queen, spiderman - Freeform, stark family has issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHAR67LOCKED/pseuds/CHAR67LOCKED
Summary: Iron Lad and Spiderman. What happens when the two meet each other in civilian clothing?Peter doesn't like Harley Keener, he doesn't, but he's also hiding something and Peter wants to find out what. He tells himself it's to protect his city but maybe, just maybe, it's because, despite his best efforts to push Harley away, Peter is starting to realize that Harley may just be the only person in the universe who truly understands who he is beneath the mask.After an accident on patrol, both Spiderman and Iron Lad are hit by a wave that will change everything they thought they knew about each other. What happens when the two wake up to find that they now share a telepathic connection. Will all be revealed? Will the two finally find out what the other is hiding? Or will the masks they wear keep them trapped in a web of lies? Only one way to find out.
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Harley Keener & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker & Shuri, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Original Female Character(s), Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 85
Kudos: 272





	1. Chapter 1 - The Hallway Incident

Peter was having the worst day. Seriously, the next person that so much as looked at him wrong, Peter swore he would web their mouth shut and throw them in the janitor's closet. He was this close, this close!

He also hoped it would be Flash to set him off. He had been waiting so long to give that kid a piece of his mind, and with Ned still absent with the flu, Peter had no more impulse control left in him to hold himself back if the opportunity happened to present itself.

Except, the person that ran into him in the hallway on his way to Chemistry, making him spill all of his books onto the floor, most definitely did not have the face of Flash Thompson. ~~In fact, the person had a rather lovely face.~~

"Watch it," Peter remarked coldly as he bent to pick up his things. He glanced back up at his assailant, only to find them staring back at him with wide eyes. The stranger seemed surprised to find a boy currently sporting a nerdy science pun t-shirt could be capable of such snark. Peter internally sighed, that made two of them. He usually wasn't like this, it just... it had been a long day.

Peter reached out to grab the last of his notebooks when a foot jerked forward, kicking it further down the hall. Peter winced as a random student trampled over it on their way past. Turning his attention back to the stranger above him, Peter shot them a glare. "What was that for?"

The stranger just shrugged. "Oops."

Peter jumped to his feet, nearly dropping all of his books again as he stared down the boy in front of him. "Oops? Really, that's the best you can come up with? Oops?"

A small smirk ticked at the corner of the boy's lips. It was gone in a blink of an eye though. Peter wasn't even sure if it was even there to begin with. 

"I would grab your notebook now," The boy remarked, and now Peter could definitely identify a smirk growing on the boy's face, "You know - before it's ruined completely."

Peter's eyes quickly flicked over to where his notebook still lay on the hallway floor. Just then, another student walked by, tripping over the book, and successfully tearing the front cover under the sudden force. Again, Peter winced. He was so getting a lecture from Aunt May later about treating his stuff better.

Peter turned back with a huff. "You're a real treasure, aren't you?" 

"Your mama certainly seems to think so."

"My mom's dead," Peter deadpanned before slamming his shoulder into the boy's and going to retrieve his notebook. He didn't look back as he made his way to his chemistry class. God, this day couldn't get any worse, could it?

"Alright class," The teacher announced with a cheery smile as the bell rang and Peter made his way to his seat, "I hope you've been reading the book because today we will be having a pop quiz. Take out your pencils and I will be around to pass out the papers in just a minute!"

Peter groaned as he let his head drop down onto his desk. It was at that moment Peter learned to never ask the universe another question again.

Two hours and forty-five excruciating minutes later Peter was finally free. School was over and now he could finally go home and facetime Ned. Then, they could binge-watch Star Wars and eat tacos until both of them were feeling better.

Except, Peter had forgotten that the universe still hated him. He didn't even have the energy to sigh as a familiar black car pulled into the school parking lot. 

Peter walked over to it and climbed in.

"Whoa kid, what's with the pouty face?" Happy remarked as soon as he saw Peter glowering in the rearview mirror, "Your Aunt pack you the wrong juice box in your lunch today or what?"

"I'm not in the mood, Happy."

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you."

"Just one thing-"

"Happy!"

"Hey, I'm trying to help!" Happy defended himself, "You seem like you're in a bad place right now so I just wanted to give you a heads up before we reach the tower, you know so that you don't get caught off guard by any surprises or anything."

This drew Peter's attention, "What surprises?"

Happy sighed. "There's a visitor at the tower that Tony wants you to meet. Well, a new resident really."

"A new resident? As in..."

"As in an old friend of Tony's that helped him out of a jam a while back. He's staying in New York for a while so Tony thought it might be better to introduce the two of you now. That's all I'm allowed to say though. Tony's orders."

"Fine, whatever," Peter grumbled, returning his gaze to look out the window. There were so many people in New York, so many places, it was like a never-ending dream. At least, that's how Peter usually felt. This city was supposed to be his home. So why did he feel so cut off from it, like he could only watch as people lived lives he wished he could live himself. He couldn't though - live his life the way he wanted - because ever since becoming Spiderman Peter had lost any semblance of normalcy. He wasn't normal. He could never be normal. Somedays he started to wonder which part of himself was his alter-ego and which part was the real him. Both of them seemed fake. They were just parts to play. Superhero. Civilian. What about him? Just him? Was there ever such a thing that existed or was all he was ever meant to be was an actor, playing his part, fulfilling his role until the time came when the world decided it didn't need him anymore? What then? Would he finally figure out who he was or would he just fade into non-existence like dust scattered in the wind?

"-That okay with you? Hey - Hey kid! You even listening to me?"

Peter flinched as Tony snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Yeah, yeah, I'm listening."

Tony frowned but didn't comment any further. "Alright, well, let's go then. I got a meeting with congress soon."

"Okay," Peter agreed placidly. Tony led him into the elevator of Stark Tower, pressing the highest floor - the penthouse suite. When the doors opened again, Tony stepped out, Peter close on his heels. Tony guided him through the several hallways and corridors of the Penthouse suite until finally, they reached the kitchen and living room area. Peter spotted the head of hair sitting on the couch immediately though he couldn't identify the person yet as their back was turned.

"Peter, this is Harley. He just moved here from Tennessee, " Tony said, gesturing to the person on the couch, "Harley, I want you to meet one of my interns, Peter Parker."

Peter forced a smile onto his face as he waited for the mysterious "Harley" to turn around. Once he did, however, Peter's smile dropped. He couldn't believe it. Turns out, he already had met Harley... today... in the school hallway.

"You!" Peter let out a strangled cry as he jabbed his finger in Harley's direction, "What are you doing here?"

Harley smirked. "Didn't you hear? I live here now, Darlin'."

"Wait," Tony interrupted the two, "You two know each other?"

"He practically bulldozed me over this morning." "He kicked my notebook!"

"Okay, okay," Tony held his hands up, "Just relax you two, I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding."

Both boys scoffed, somehow finally in agreement on something, and that something was that Tony Stark was full of it.

"I don't think so, Old Man."

"Mr. Stark I saw him! It wasn't an accident."

"Well then maybe you deserved it," Harley shot back, turning his attention back on Peter.

"You ran into me first, Keener."

"Not true. You were the one running around like a maniac!"

"And you were the one sauntering down the middle of the hall like a neiandrathal!"

"Okay, enough!" Tony shouted, breaking them up for a second time in so many minutes, "Peter, go home. Harley, to your room. Clearly this was a mistake."

"But Mr. Stark-" "-Are you serious?"

"I mean it!" Tony roared, "Out! Now!"

Harley huffed, shooting Peter a scowl before turning and storming out of the room. Peter went to do the same when a hand caught his shoulder.

"Peter," Tony said pointly - though considerably softer, "What's going on, Kid? I don't think I've ever seen you this worked up before."

Peter gave an uncharacteristic eyeroll as he shrugged off Tony's hand. He tried not to notice the frown that appeared on Tony's face after he did so. "I'm fine, Mr. Stark. It's _him_ you need to worry about."

Peter didn't wait for Tony to defend Harley as he too left the room in a flurry of huffed up anger.

Tony, now left alone, gave a long sigh. "Hey Friday?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Cancel my meeting for three o'clock. In fact, cancel the rest of my day. I need a nap."

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos! This is the first part of "The Masks We Wear" so I hope you like it! Please feel free to comment and give it a kudos. I appreciate all positive or constructive commentary. That being said, this is also my first time posting on this platform so if anything seems wonky or out of place please be patient with me. I am trying best to provide the best content my creative mind can generate. I love this ship and the marvel universe so much! I can't wait to write more for you guys! Enjoy, and see you soon!

Love all,

Your Favorite Author


	2. Chapter 2 - Suit Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's banquet night for Aunt May's work down at City Hall and Peter is forced to tag along. What happens when he overhears something he wasn't meant to, and what does it mean for he and Harley's already rocky relationship? To make matters worse, it appears the criminals in NYC have decided that Peter - aka Spiderman - does not deserve the night off. Suit up, Peter, it's showtime!

"Ned!" Peter raced over to his best friend. "Ned, oh thank god you're back. Finally, finally, finally!"

"Wha-Peter?" Ned chuckled as Peter quickly wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug... except, "Too tight, too tight!"

Peter quickly released him, shooting Ned an apologetic look. It had been almost two weeks since he had last gotten the chance to see Ned face to face. Truth be told, Peter had started to worry his friend was seriously ill. Turns out, Ned had gotten the flu, then - whilst still in recovery - he had gotten a fever as well. It had been a rough two weeks, for both Ned and Peter. But now Ned was back and everything could go back to the way it was!

"Hey Darlin', how's your day going?" A voice with a heavy southern accent said right before Peter felt an arm fall across his shoulders. Peter groaned, not even having to look over to see who it was.

"Go away." Peter flicked off the boy's arm, taking a step away from him for good measure.

"You wound my heart, Parker."

Peter looked unimpressed, glancing down at where Harley was clutching his hand, "Other side, Dumbass."

"Whatever," Harley brushed him off before his face suddenly broke into a grin. A mischievous grin, and one Peter was starting to loathe. "If I were you, Parker, I wouldn't be calling anyone a dumbass. If I recall I scored a 97 on our last English quiz and, uh, what was it you scored again? What'd you get?"

"Shut up, Keener," Peter growled, shoving the boy roughly. Harley stumbled though the smile hadn't dropped from his face.

"Ah, I remember now. It was a 91. That's what it was, wasn't it," Harley asked gleefully, "You got an A- while I got an A."

"That was your fault!" Peter insisted angrily.

"My fault?" Harley feigned ignorance, "Now, whatever could you mean by that, Darlin'?"

"You-You distracted me!"

"Fallen for me already, Parker?"

"No!" Peter shouted indignantly, face alighting with embarrassment, "That's not what I meant and you know it!"

Harley just laughed like a maniac while Peter continued to glare at him. The two suddenly halted however when Ned finally got the courage to speak up. "Are you two..." Ned seemed to be scrambling to find the right words before he finally blurted out, "Together?"

Both Harley and Peter paled in an instant, their mouths simultaneously dropping down into a slack-faced 'O' formation. Neither of them said anything for a moment before, as if jerking to life like a car engine, they began to splutter out their adamant disapproval at the notion.

"No way!" "Him? Ned, you can't be serious!"

Ned reeled back in surprise under the force of their combined voices. "Right, sorry! Forget I said anything! I just thought-"

"Well you thought wrong, Sir, you thought wrong."

Peter shot Harley a bemused look before mouthing, "Sir?"

Harley caught the silent words as they left Peter's lips. "What? It's a part of my southern charm!" 

"I wasn't aware you had _any_ charm."

"I'm just gonna go," Ned said silently, as he began to inch away from the two.

"I'll go with you!" Peter replied instantly, following Ned's lead. The first bell was about to ring soon anyway. 

"See you in English class, Darlin'!"

Peter didn't reply though he figured the glare he shot back at Harley said it all.

Once they were a good enough distance away Ned spoke up again. "So..."

"Don't even say it, Ned," Peter warned him.

"What? I'm just curious! Who even is that guy anyway?"

There was a pause of silence. The two filed into their first-period class. Finding their seats, they sat down before turning to face one another again. Peter, being the one in front, was forced to turn around in order to talk. 

"His name's Harley Keener," Peter finally admitted, "He's new, and if you haven't noticed already, he's an ass. Now you know I'm not usually one for hate but I'm telling you, Ned, he's despicable. I swear he's even worse than Liz Allen's dad!"

"You mean the supervillain that tried to steal from Tony Stark, threatened you in his car, almost killed you, and, oh, let's not forget! He dropped a freaking building on you, man! An actual building" Ned listed, his voice rising steadily, "That Liz's dad? That's who you think is better than Harley?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, just checking."

"Ned, I'm being serious. Harley Keener is the absolute worst! He's constantly trying to prove he's better than me, always making snide comments, and, and, he's got Mr. Stark wrapped around his finger, like what's up with that? When Happy mentioned that Mr. Stark had an old friend I pictured a middle-aged man, not some snotty little brat from Tennesee with a penchant for making my life miserable!"

"Wait, Harley knows Mr. Stark too?"

"Yeah, apparently he saved his life a couple of years back," Peter snorted, unimpressed.

"Dude! That's so cool! So, like, is he a superhero or something too?"

"Pfft, no way man!" Peter scoffed, "That kid does not have a single heroic bone in his body. He's all about self-preservation. Trust me, Ned, out of all the people in this city who could be a superhero, Harley Keener would not be it."

~~~

The rest of Peter's day had been pretty good now that Ned was back - well, not considering the English Literature Class fiasco. Let's just say Peter did not enjoy Harley's self-made sonnet titled, "Dearly Detested". Yeah, guess who that was about. Besides that, however, Peter's week seemed to be looking up. Also, it was finally Friday which meant that for the next two nights Peter could stay up an hour later on patrol, something that always seemed to brighten his mood.

When he got home Peter was back to his usual cheery self. Not even the smell of Aunt May's cooking, wafting through the house could put a damper on his mood.

"Hey, Aunt May!" Peter called out as he stumbled through the front door of the apartment, throwing his bookbag haphazardly into the corner of the room as he headed straight for the fridge. He opened the door, not hesitating to reach in and grab an apple. He took a large bite, humming happily as he did so.

"Peter!" Aunt May admonished as she made her way down the hall towards him, "You're going to spoil your dinner!"

Peter opened his mouth, about to point out to her that he was a superhuman spider boy who ate nearly twice as many calories as most doctors would deem healthy for someone his age but he quickly caught himself before he could out his biggest secret to the most overprotective aunt in the world. No, that would be a very bad idea. So instead Peter just shrugged and said, "But I'm a growing boy, Aunt May."

His aunt looked unimpressed. 

"So," Peter deflected as he took a large bite out of a leftover turkey sandwich, "How was your day?"

Aunt May's face brightened. "Great actually! There's a fundraiser's banquet tonight at the city hall for the hospital."

"Sounds fun," Peter said distractedly, too engrossed in his sandwich to pay much attention to what his aunt was saying.

"Anyway,' Aunt May continued, "I'm a little nervous. I've never been to a banquet before."

"Totally natural," Peter said to his sandwich, "I'm sure tons of people get nervous about this stuff but I'm sure it's super fun too."

"Great!"

Peter jumped, finally tearing his eyes away from the sandwich. 

"Be ready to leave at seven?"

"W-What?"

"You're gonna be my plus one of course!"

Peter paled. "No, no, Aunt May, you don't understand. I can't go!"

"Why not?"

"Because I have - uh - um, a chemistry project! Yeah, that's it, a huge, big chemistry project! It'll probably take hours and hours to do so I should - I should probably get started on that right now."

"Peter," Aunt May drawled as he tried to dash out of the kitchen.

He pivoted around with a guilty smile on his face. "Yes, Aunt May?"

"We're leaving at seven sharp."

Peter slumped. "Yes, Aunt May."

After that Peter spent the next three and a half hours moping before he realized he only had half an hour to shower and get ready which cause him to scramble in five different directions at once, debating over what he should do first. In the end, Peter finished getting ready in a record time of twenty-seven minutes.

As he waited for his aunt on the living room couch, Peter let out a frustrated huff as he tried to cramp his foot into an old, worn pair of black dress shoes as May came gliding around the corner in a blue silk dress with a white shawl draped around her shoulders.

"Wow, Aunt May," Peter said with wide eyes, "That's a really pretty dress."

Aunt May looked down. "What? This old thing? Please. What about you? I wasn't even sure you owned a tux, I was half expecting you to try and leave in a pair of sweatpants."

"That was an option?"

Aunt May laughed. "Come on, we're going to be late."

Peter sighed, gathering himself up as he begrudgingly followed his aunt out the door. The ride was short but yet again Peter found himself staring out the car window with a sense of longing gathering in the pit of his chest. He was a superhero and a civilian. He had the best of both worlds, and yet, watching the people wander under the city lights, laughing and chatting as they went sent Peter's heart pining over them. Such little lives they led and still they held so much worth. What was he missing?

"You ready, hun?" 

Peter looked back at his aunt. She was watching him with a curious look on her face. Peter looked back out the car window, he hadn't even noticed he had been staring right at city hall. He gulped, so not looking forward to tonight. "Yeah, of course, let's go."

He opened the car door, climbing out before reaching back inside to help Aunt May out as well.

"Why thank you, kind sir," Aunt May joked.

Peter shot her an affectionate smile. "Anything for you, m'lady."

They both laughed as Peter took her arm and led them both up the front entrance stairs of the city hall. The moment they entered the scene Peter's senses were suddenly overwhelmed by the bright lights and blaring music. Even the people seemed to come alive on a wholly different level as their chatter filled every inch of air and their face swam in and out of Peter's vision. If not for his aunt's tight grip on his forearm, Peter might have been tempted to take a step back, maybe even flee from the area altogether.

"Oh my," Aunt May breathed, "Isn't this just beautiful, Peter?"

Peter softened, trying to take in the view from his aunt's perspective. Neither of them had ever been to something like this before, and despite the overwhelming atmosphere he had to admit it did look beautiful. 

"Oh look!" May hissed into Peter's ear, not so subtly gesturing to someone in the distance. Peter nearly choked on air as he saw his bio lab teacher dressed in a cheetah print three-piece suit as well as an overly zealous tophat. "That's definitely a fashion faux-pas, right?"

At that, Peter snorted, "Yeah, definitely."

May giggled as she began to point out several other questionable fashion choices. Then, they ran into one of the fellow nurses in her hospital, a rather snobbish woman with an obviously fake British accent that also had Peter and Aunt May laughing long after she had left. Peter was starting to actually enjoy himself when a familiar face caught his eye, immediately souring his mood.

"What's wrong," His aunt asked as she saw the frown now darkening his face.

"Nothing," Peter muttered, trying to drag her away. Too late. Peter found himself locking eyes with a pair of stormy dark blue ones. There was a sea of people between them but for some reason, for the first time that night, Peter's senses seemed to fail him. He could sense nothing else but the blonde boy standing across the room, an aching chasm between them and yet Peter could swear he could hear the boy's heartbeat like he was honed into a frequency that broadcasted nothing but Harley Keener. Peter cursed quietly to himself.

"Peter, dear, what's wrong?"

Peter's eyes snapped back over to his aunt. Suddenly, his senses all came rushing back, leaving him paralyzed and slightly breathless. It took him a moment for him to finally regain control again. Once he had he stuttered out a quick apology to his aunt about needing to use the bathroom before rushing off.

As he made his way through the crowd Peter tried to dodge the bodies that constantly swarmed around him. Once, a woman bumped into his side, jostling him a little. Peter was embarrassed by the staggeringly powerful urge to cry out. The contact had not been painful, no, but with his senses already on overdrive, the undo contact seemed almost unbearable. Still, Peter continued to rush forward, following the red bathroom signs hanging from the gathering room's outer walls. Finally, finally, Peter spotted the door to the men's bathroom, he practically sprinted the last hundred feet as he darted inside.

Quiet, at last.

Peter sighed with relief as he realized the bathroom was empty. _Thank God,_ He thought before striding up to the bathroom sinks and turning the faucet on. He splashed his face with water, relishing the way it immediately cooled his already flushed cheeks. After he was finally starting to cool down again, Peter stopped, took a deep breath, and looked up at his reflection in the mirror. 

His eyes were red-rimmed. He looked like he was holding back tears. It wasn't until he made that observation did he notice the stinging weight behind his eyes. _Crap. He_ was _holding back tears._ Peter scoffed. That was just like him, wasn't it? He couldn't even go to a simple banquet with his aunt without letting his other life get in the way. It was a sharp reminder that as much as he tried to forget, he could never have this life.

A shiver ran down Peter's spine. The hairs on the back of his neck raising as a familiar jolt washed over him. His spiderman senses were kicking in.

Then he heard it.

"What do you mean I can't?" A familiar southern accent cried out, his voice drifting as if he were standing right outside the bathroom door. "Well, I don't care."

A pause. "Because it's my life!"

Peter strained his ears. Harley's voice was as clear as rain but for some reason, Peter couldn't pinpoint who he was talking to. Harley wasn't talking to himself was he? Was he crazy?

"What do you-" Harley pauses as if someone has cut him off, "Yes, yes, of course, the old man knows. Pfft, it was practically his idea."

Peter's brow furrows. Was Harley talking about Tony Stark?

"I can't - I'm not going to apologize for what I've done," Harley hardened, and _What the hell did that mean? What had he done?_

Peter couldn't help but think the worst. Was he scheming to take over the city? Hack into Stark Tower? Harm Tony? Or worse, maybe he had found out he was Spiderman and was planning to kidnap Aunt May to use her as leverage after he took over Stark Tower so that he could hurt Tony AND take over the city. Yes, that was very plausible, maybe should keep an eye on Harley from now on. You know, just in case.

Peter was so busy creating plans to stalk Harley until he found out the truth that he almost missed what the boy said next.

"What? Of course, I haven't told Peter!" Peter froze as Harley continued to spit out, "Well, that's great if Stark seems to trust the kid but I don't. This isn't some invention from my garage - ok, not the point - this is my life at stake here. I can't trust anyone, least of all Peter Parker."

Peter bristled.

"You know what," Harley exclaimed far too loudly, his voice taking on a more mirthful tone, "I think - I think the signal's cutting out. I can't hear you. Hello? Hello?"

This time Peter's senses did pick up another voice. "Harley!"

It was a little murky and though the person seemed to be shouting Peter could just barely hear them. They sounded like they were talking through static, like they were talking through... a phone! Peter almost slapped his forehead at his terrible observation skills. Of course, Harley wasn't talking to himself. He was talking to someone on the phone. 

_Nice one, Peter._

Harley gave a low chuckle as Peter heard the person on the other side of the phone shout. "You're the worst!"

"I know, I know," Harley laughed, "I'll talk to you soon. Alright, Squirt?"

There was a pause. The person on the phone dropping their voice low so that Peter missed what they said again.

Harley seemed to sober up as he murmured quietly. "Yeah, I know. I love you too, Squirt."

There was a short beep before Harley gave a tired sigh. Then, after a moment's pause, Peter heard the sound of footsteps retreating from the door.

Peter closed his eyes, trying to decipher everything that he had overheard. What-

Gunshots, loud and startling, broke the pleasant atmosphere.

Then, followed the screams.

Peter burst through the bathroom door. People everywhere were running and tripping over each other as they scrambled back towards the walls, away from the middle of the gathering hall. Peter's eyes instinctually scanned the faces around him, looking for Harley, except the tall blond seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Peter shook his head, trying to forget about the boy for a moment. Right now he had a job to do. Thankfully, Peter had worn his suit under - well - his other suit. He usually did that, always paranoid that his other self might be needed. Unfortunately, tonight was one of the few times he had been right.

Peter rushed back into the bathroom. He quickly changed before using his web-shooters to tear off one of the ceiling tiles. Peter jumped, latching onto one of the exposed pipes and swinging himself up until he was balancing on top of the metal braces in between two of the ceiling tiles. Peter used his webs again to spring the title back up from the floor and into its rightful place.

He made quick work as he tried to navigate through the confusing twists and tunnels of the upper ceiling. Dust quickly cluttered his suit as he shimmied his way down yet another ceiling vent. Peter didn't know which way he was going but he figured the louder the people's hushed whispers got the closer he was to the center of the action. His job became easier when he heard a voice booming over the crowd. One of the gunmen probably giving orders to the people. A stickup no doubt. Peter almost huffed at the unoriginality of it all. It's like the crooks in this city forgot he existed, like he wasn't about to break through this vent and kick their collective asses.

Except, that's not exactly what happened.

Peter went smashing through the vent, and into the gathering hall at the same time, a flying projectile went sailing through one of the windows of city hall.

The result.

Collision.

* * *

A/N:

AHHH! I'm so excited to share this with y'all! What's up, Kiddos! I hope you're having a good day - well, if not, you are now - and I hope you enjoy this next addition to my book. A lot of great stuff in this chapter! Harley and Ned finally meet and Peter overhears a mysterious phonecall between Harley and someone else. Hmm, I wonder what they could be talking about. Also, what (or maybe who) is this projectile that's just collided with Peter? Could it be... duh, duh, duh, Iron Lad? Perhaps. Find out more in my next chapter! I think I'm gonna make it the first Harley-centric chapter. While this fic is mostly centered around Peter it will include some Harley chapters just for some more insight and stuff. Anyway, hope you enjoy : )

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


	3. Chapter 3 - I Hate Todd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Harley-centric Chapter! (I actually don't know how to do summaries so let's just blaze it, yeah?)
> 
> After a tiresome call from home, Harley is left feeling even more anxious than before. Maybe taking on multiple gunmen who are holding the city hall captive just might be what the doctor ordered. Not literally, of course, as Harley's official doctor is employed by the overprotective Tony Stark who will probably have a heart attack when he finds out Harley took his own iron suit prototype out for a test drive.

Harley swung his arms, balancing on his toes before falling back on his heel. He repeated the process several times, hoping that it might release some of the pent-up energy that was beginning to fill him from the inside out. 

He hated galas, balls, banquets, or whatever the hell this thing was. Scratch that, he hated Tony for forcing him to come here in the first place. The stupid mechanic had left the city with Mrs. Potts to take care of a "critical situation" down at one of the Stark branches in Louisiana a couple of days back and still had yet to return. That meant that Harley was acting Stark Industry Representative. Basically, just a fancy bullshit title that meant Harley had to replace Stark at any public event until he came back. Right now, Harley was regretting accepting the position.

"You'll be fine, Kid," Tony had told him before he left, "Just smile, wave, and be like me... or actually don't be like me. In fact, if I would do it, you probably shouldn't do it. I'll see you next Tuesday, Kid. If you need anything call Happy, or Peter."

Harley hadn't really understood that last part. Why would he call Peter? If there really was a crisis what would the kid do? Make puppy dog eyes until the problem went away?

Harley snorted to himself, having to quickly cover it up with a cough as the couple next to him gave him an odd stare. 

God, the people here were so uptight. Not to mention the noise and the crowd and the excessively bright lights. It was like being on a broadway stage except the crowd was just a bunch of random middle-aged people whose only pleasure in life appeared to be terrorizing Harley. Seriously, he couldn't even count the number of times someone had tried to come up to him tonight, offering to help him find his parents. After the third or fourth time, Harley just started glaring at anyone who got within a five-foot radius of him, that seemed to do the trick.

Harley sighed. Only one more hour until the speeches would start then another three until finally, finally he could retire back to Stark Tower and sleep until he forgot this night ever happened.

He should really be getting paid for this.

"Are you Harley Keener?"

Harley spun around to see a young man, maybe earlier to mid-thirties - honestly Harley was never good at guessing people's age - wearing a nice-ish button shirt and cargo pants. The person had a lanyard around their neck that said NYCN - New York City News. That explained a lot. It also explained why the person was so viciously trying to shove a microphone down his throat, and why there was a woman with a flashing camera standing just behind him.

"Um yes?"

"Fabulous! Mr. Keener, could you tell us your relationship with Mr. Tony Stark, also known as Ironman," The news reporter asked.

"Uh," Harley blinked, the camera light was blinding, brighter than the already overwhelming lights of the room.

"Why are you so eager to hide your association?"

"I'm not!"

"Are you Tony's biological son? Are you trying to take over his inheritance?"

"N-No!"

"Is that why you're here? Is that why you're living in Stark Tower? Do you wish any ill-will towards Tony after he left you all those years ago?"

That one hit a little too close to home. Sure, Tony hadn't left him after making love to his mother and procreating him or anything but Tony _had_ left him. Even if Harley had known he couldn't stay, even though they had still kept in touch throughout the years. The sting of someone leaving, anyone leaving really, still hurt him. It was just a by-product of having an absentee father he guessed.

"Uh, can you - can you excuse me, just for one moment," Harley stuttered, stumbling his way through the crowd, trying to get as far away from the reporter as he could. The camera light had left his vision clouded with blurry black smudges, making him bump into several other people as he went. He kept muttering "excuse me"s and "pardon me"s but he didn't really mean them. All Harley could focus on was the fact that he had to getaway. He weaved back through the crowd. He needed to find someplace quiet where he could calm down, collect his thoughts instead of letting them run rampant like a pinball machine. 

He spun around, eyes searching for an exit when they accidentally locked onto a pair of dark brown ones. I mean, the person was across the room so he couldn't exactly see the color from here but Harley didn't need to. He had already seen them up close before. And now, watching as those same eyes stared back at him with the intensity of a metal spoon in the microwave, Harley felt his rising blood pressure suddenly drop. 

He couldn't remember what he had been worrying about. He couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing. In fact, you could have asked him his name and Harley would have only responded with one word.

Peter.

Then, the boy across the room looked away and the connection was broken.

Harley snapped out of his daze, shaking his head violently as though his thought process was just a mere malfunction that could be fixed through physical calibration. 

That's when Harley's phone started to buzz in his pocket. At first, he thought his leg muscles were spasming - the way his night was going Harley wouldn't have been at all surprised. Then, he looked down and saw the light of his phone screen through his pants' pocket. _Oh._ Harley reached down, pulling out the mobile and swiping accept before his brain could even register the caller ID. He should have checked the caller ID.

"Harley Keener!" A voice screeched through the phone's speaker.

Harley winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. When he was sure she was finished he brought it back, saying, "Well hello to you too, Squirt."

"Harley I am serious," His little sister, Abby, said sternly, "You've really done it this time!"

"I don't even know what I did," Harley snorted, making his way to the restroom sign hanging from the gathering hall's wall. Even if he could hear his sister just fine, it was more for his sanity than his ears.

"Don't even know what you - Harls - you're all over the news!"

Harley furrowed his brow. So soon? The reporter had just interviewed him not even five minutes ago, how was it already on television back in Tennessee? 

"The news?" Harley said, perplexed.

"Yes! New Stark Prototype saves local Pizzeria from collapse after fire collapses foundations. I'm reading the headline right now! I mean, that was you, wasn't it? It's your suit at least."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. That was me," Harley said sluggishly, pushing his hair up and away from his forehead.

"Harley, we talked about this," His sister said, voice softening, "You promised you would stop."

"I said I'd think about it. Well, I thought about it and I decided to continue with the plan."

"What plan? To get yourself killed!"

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are! You can't do this, Harl, you just can't!"

"What do you mean I can't?" Harley demanded, his footsteps faltering at the door of the men's restroom.

"You aren't Tony, Harls," Abby tried to reason with him, "You can't do what he can do. You're not gonna end up a hero. You're gonna end up dead."

Harley laughed dryly. "Well, I don't care."

"I do!" Abby shouted, "Why can't you just listen to me?"

"Because it's my life!"

"No, it's not."

"What do you-"

"It stops being your life when it starts affecting mine, and mom's, and every other damn person in your life who would cry buckets and buckets if anything ever happened to you."

Harley fell silent. He hadn't really thought about it like that.

Great, now he just feels like an ass.

"Look," Abby started up again, "I'm just worried about you, Harley. I know Tony has always been an idol of yours, especially since... the incident, but don't you think this is a bit too far. Creating your own suit? Fighting crime like him? I mean, does Tony even know about this?"

"Yes, yes, of course, the old man knows," Harley huffed, "It was practically his idea."

Lie.

Harley had been working on his prototype suit since Tony had first busted into his garage that night. Tony hadn't found out about the suit until about a couple of weeks ago when Harley first moved into the Stark Tower. At first, Tony had been ready to blow the suit up, no questions asked, but after talking him down, Harley explained to him why he had built the suit in the first place. How lost he had been those days after Tony left. How he suddenly had this overwhelming hunger to do more with his life, to help people. And yeah, sure, Tony had something to do with that, but the desire stemmed from something much deeper than Harley's admiration for Tony. It was like there was this fire burning inside him, except it was slowly killing him, licking at his bones, and scorching his organs. It was a sickness, and the only cure was to try to do the best he could to save the world before going out in one big blaze of glory. At least, that's how Harley pictured it.

"Harley," Abby whispered, her voice cracked and Harley could practically feel the tears welling up in his own eyes, "I'm worried about you. I want to help. I want you to get better but I'm just afraid that there is no reaching you anymore. This crusade or whatever you want to call it feels like you're trying to fill a void that can't be filled."

"I'm can't - I'm not going to apologize for what I've done," Harley gritted. This suit of his wasn't just a passion, it was a lifeline. He wasn't about to give that up just because his sister was starting to get cold feet, not when he had just started.

"Fine," Abby's voice hardened, "But I still think you should talk to someone about this. If not me or Tony then maybe someone your own age, someone who might understand what you're going through."

_Where was this going?_

Abby sighed, realizing Harley wasn't going to take the bait. "What about Tony's personal intern? You mentioned him a couple of times and he seems to know Tony pretty well. Not to mention he sounds like a total nerd, just like you. That alone means you two already have a lot in common, right? I'm just saying it might be nice to talk to him."

Harley was struck into a shocked silence.

"Have you?"

"What? Of course, I haven't told Peter!" Harley screeched. The nerve of his sister! Peter Parker! She had to be kidding!

"Why not? Tony seemed to trust him!" Abby countered.

"Well, that's great if Stark seems to trust the kid but I don't. This isn't some invention from my garage-"

"Yes, it is."

"-ok, not the point. This is my life at stake here. I can't trust anyone, least of all Peter Parker."

That seemed to shut Abby up for a moment. 

Finally, Harley heard a sigh emanating from the other end. "Okay, big bro, you win. Just promise me you'll stay safe?"

Harley didn't reply.

He never made a promise he couldn't keep.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Abby chuckled sadly. Then, as if by magic, her voice shifted, taking on a much cheerier tone than before. "Anyway, how's New York life treating you? Meet anyone special at School Smart People for the Gifted Douches?"

It sounded so out of place given the context of their previous conversation but Harley knew what she was doing. She was putting on a brave face, shoving her uncomfortable emotions to the side so that she wouldn't have to deal with them for the time being. Harley, well, he guessed it must have been a family trait because he did it too. Most of the time, he buried his emotions so deep inside that even _he_ had a hard time finding them.

Which is exactly why he was able to easily slip into a loud, carefree laugh as he said, "You know what? I think - I think the signal's cutting out. I can't hear you. Hello? Hello?"

Harley put Abby on speakerphone, hoping that then the phone would be able to pick up the noisy atmosphere a bit better.

"Harley!" His sister admonished teasingly. "You're the worst!"

Harley let out another laugh. "I know, I know. I'll talk to you soon. Alright, Squirt?"

Harley took her off speaker, going to hang up when Abby's voice suddenly cut through again.

"Wait! She shouted, then, her voice dropped into a low whisper as if it were too much of a secret to even be said out loud. "I just - I'm here if you need me. I'll always be here, Harls."

Harley frowned, his heart panging. It was bittersweet. A mixture of love and guilt. "Yeah, I know. I love you too, Squirt."

Harley ended the call, letting out a long sigh. He ran his hand through his hair before getting up the courage to charge back into the fray. He had barely taken ten steps when a gunshot sounded through the air. Harley barely registered the screams as he tore through the people, breaking away and ducking into a side hallway. He raced down the hall, fast walk turning to a jog turning to a sprint as he finally broke through a set of doors, a side exit that led out into a narrow alleyway.

Harley fumbled, reaching for his smartwatch, his fingers dancing across the screen as he made the call.

"Are you sure you want to activate the 'Find Harley' protocol?" An automated voice spoke through his watch.

"Yes!" Harley hastily replied.

"Activating. Eta - seven minutes."

"Thanks, Todd."

Todd was Harley's personal AI, another invention coined after Stark Technology. Todd had been programmed into Harley's watch since Harley was fifteen, and as Tony had said, it was a big improvement from the Dora the Explorer watch he had been lent during his stay at the Keener's. Of course, Harley had tried to tell the mechanic that it was never Harley's watch to begin with, but rather his sister's, but since when did the old man ever listen to him?

Three years later and Todd had become an important part of Harley's life, even if he wasn't actually a real person.

Todd stood for - Totally Obedient Digital Database, which was ironic because Todd was anything but obedient. No matter how many times Harley had tried to reprogram him, the AI always ended up creating a mind of his own, usually analyzing and picking up on Harley's speech patterns. Unluckily for Harley, that included a lot of sarcasm and probably a lot more sass than was strictly necessary. Still, Todd was probably one of Harley's most treasured inventions. Right after his infamous potato gun of course.

"Incoming," Todd warned him.

Harley smirked as he saw his suit come streaking out of the sky. Finally.

The suit landed with a metallic thud on the alleyway pavement before opening up like a cacoon. Harley wasted no time inserting himself inside the machine. It fit like a glove. As it closed around him, Harley was suddenly hit with the familiar feeling of protection. Now that he had his armor on, he was ready for anything.

"Todd, initiate thrusters."

"Initiating thrusters."

There was a spark that trickled out of his hands before Harley felt himself being propelled skyward. He almost whooped for joy as he practically could feel the wind rushing around his suit. Harley heaved, an open smile on his face. He felt weightless, he _was_ weightless, and it felt amazing.

Harley curved back down to Earth, letting himself fall until the last second where he sprung up again and sent himself careening through the city hall's window. He braced his arms in front of himself as he broke through.

It was because of this that Harley did not have enough time to react. As he dropped his arms down and away from his face, Harley had less than a second to react before the infamous web-slinger came bursting down from a ceiling vent. Harley cried out in shock as his suit collided with another body, sending him spinning out of control. Harley went spiraling downward. He could only gasp before he felt the jarring impact of the suit hitting marble. He groaned, splayed out on the gathering hall floor like a washed-up starfish.

Harley shook his head, struggling to get up. "Todd? Status report."

"The suit is fully functional," Todd informed him, "You're not looking too hot though, Cowboy. Don't forget, you're still human underneath your suit."

"Don't remind me," Harley gritted, stumbling slightly as he felt a sharp pain in his leg.

"Hey!"

Harley spun around, the sudden movement causing a sharp pain to shoot through his leg. Harley didn't even have time to wince as a bullet hit him in the chest. Harley grunted, the impact of the bullet sliding him back a few inches. He looked down at his chest. Not even a scratch. Harley grinned before charging the gunman. Four, five, six more bullets were unloaded into his chest plate but this time Harley didn't slow down. He sprinted, his suit propulsion shockers acting as springs in his feet, helping him to cross the distance in half the time.

The gunman's eyes widened, face paling as Harley's large figure loomed over him. "Oh my god."

"Mmh," Harley cocked his head, "Not quite."

Then, he brought his head back, slamming it into the man's skull. He slumped to the ground, landing in an ungraceful heap at Harley's feet. Harley sniffed. He looked up, watching as the crowd of people stared back at him. Some had faces of horror, others of slack-jawed amazement. None of them, though, looked to be moving any time soon.

Harley huffed. Ungrateful and unhelpful. This is exactly why he never attended these types of things. The event was boring but the people? The people were even worse. 

He took to the sky, hovering near the room's tall ceiling. "Todd, how many more gunmen?"

"Three more. Spiderman is currently taking on two of them but the third," Harley's optics automatically zoomed in on a man in all black, gesturing wildly to the people around him. He didn't seem to be holding a weapon though Harley had no doubt he had at least one on his person.

"On it," Harley said, diving rapidly and scooping up the man as if he were some damsel in distress. The man screamed. It was a high-pitched scream, very shrill-like.

So maybe he was a damsel in distress. He certainly sounded like a damsel and well - Harley strung him up on the banquet hall's chandelier - he was clearly in distress.

Harley searched the man's pockets. They were empty. Wait, no, there was something in the man's back pocket. Harley pulled out the object. it was an oblong, cylinder-shaped apparatus with a faint, flashing blue pulse emanating from it.

"What is this?" Harley demanded.

The man continued blubbering. "P-Please, put me down, put me-"

"Listen to me!" Harley gripped the front of his shirt. "Tell me what I want to know or, I swear, I'll cut down this chandelier and let you fall. Got it?"

The man nodded hastily. He already had tears streaming down his face and his nose was running like a kid out on a snow day.

Harley's lip curled in disgust.

This man was no professional. He was clearly new at this. So why was he here to begin with? And what was this device he had? Harley had never seen the likes of it before but he had enough smarts to know that it was high-tech. Harley examined the device in his hands, the soft blue glow pinging through the air every other second, almost like someone breathing. No, not breathing - more like scanning. Harley's mind whirled, a thousand ideas racing through his head as to what this might be. One thought, in particular, stood out to him.

"Wait, is this an electronic inhibitor?"

The man on the chandelier continued to tremble most unhelpfully.

"Answer the question, Tough Guy," Harley yelled, "Or should I cut you lose?"

"I don't know," The man stuttered, "They-They just told me, they told me it was some kind of - I don't know - power dampener or something!"

Harley rolled his eyes. "That's what I just said, Dummy."

But then Harley frowned. Power dampener? Spiderman didn't need electricity to power his suit, he had his own superpowers, which meant-

Harley's eyes widened.

"You knew I was coming."

"Well, yeah," The man said, "You've been flying all over the city since - well, recently. Our boss thought you might show up. We had to cover our asses somehow, right?"

"You didn't use it though," Harley rose an eyebrow

"I-I forgot I had it I guess. I didn't see you and then I was up here and I panicked."

Harley snorted. That was an understatement.

"Besides, our boss told us we shouldn't use the tech unless we had to."

"Why?"

"I shouldn't. They'll-"

"Oh please! Don't even start with me about what they'll do to you if you squeal," Harley leaned in, speaking directly into the man's ear. "Trust me, I can do a lot worse."

Harley leaned back, smirking as he saw the man gulp nervously.

"Fine - Alright, fine. It was supposed to be a secret."

"What was?"

"The tech. We got a new supplier last month," The man explained haltingly, "Some new hotshot syndicate looking to take down Iron Man and any other super that stands in their way."

"The way of what?"

"Um, I'm not sure, really - I don't know much."

"I can see that," Harley muttered under his breath.

"All I know is that with Iron Man out of the picture the syndicate's business would increase ten-fold, at least. Maybe - Maybe more."

"You mean your new supplier wants to replace Stark Industries as the primary tech producer in New York."

"No, no, no, that would be too obvious. This new supplier, they like - they like to fly under the radar. No two of their products look the same, there's no trademark, no identifiable company brand. That's what makes them so hard to track down."

"You tracked them down," Harley pointed out.

"No," The man shook his head. "You got it all wrong. They came to us."

Harley's face scrunched up. He wouldn't even trust these guys with a ballpoint pen. "Why?"

The man opened his mouth.

"Wait," Harley stopped him, "Let me guess, you don't know."

"N-No, Sir, I don't."

Harley held back a laugh. Sir? This man was truly pathetic. So... why would this new syndicate choose _these_ men _,_ of all people, to handle their tech?

Harley had one more question.

"Why did you target this banquet event? It's for a hospital. You must have known there wouldn't be much to loot from it, so why even bother?"

"Orders are orders, Man. We just do what we're told to keep the money rolling."

And that was... fair. Probably the most decent thing the guy had said all night. I mean, sure, Harley didn't condone robbery and threat but he could understand where the man was coming from. He was just a couple of months shy of being a broke college student himself. He, probably more than anyone, could understand the struggles of working for the next paycheck, the next bill to meet, the next meal to eat. Maybe not so much now that he was living in Stark Tower but back home, in Tennessee, Harley had to work at the town's auto repair shop at the ripe age of thirteen just to help his mom pay the bills. There were a couple of times throughout his childhood where Harley could remember his mom not making their monthly electric bill in time. He and his sister would have to open all of the windows in the house and Harley, one time, had to hand-build a self-sustaining freezer after their food kept going bad. The worst was when their electricity ran out in the winter. One winter, his mom couldn't afford to pay the electric bill two months in a row. During that time, Harley and Abby had to share a bed just to stay warm at night, and during the day, when Harley wasn't at the shop working, he would spend most of his time in the garage with a large space heater, blasting his music as he tinkered, trying to ignore the cold.

Tony didn't know about that. Early on, Harley had learned about Tony keeping tabs on him, that's why he hacked into Jarvis and filtered out any news of his financial woes out of the computer's database. It was a sloppy job, as Harley's area of expertise was with his hands rather than a keyboard, but the job was done well enough that Tony hadn't felt the need to look into it, and, well, Tony hadn't known there was a problem to look into in the first place. While it had made him feel a little guilty to go behind Tony's back, and there were some nights Harley regretted the decision - especially that one winter - his pride wouldn't let him undo what he had done. He refused to take advantage of Tony like that. Besides, he didn't need some guardian billionaire looking out for him. Harley Keener could take care of himself.

"Freeze!"

 _Oh great, the police are here,_ Harley thought to himself.

Harley hadn't had a run-in with the police yet and he wasn't about to start now. He gave the man, still swinging from the chandelier, one last disapproving glance before shooting back out through the broken window and out into the night. 

Harley flew past building after building until the red and blue strobe lights had faded from view. It wasn't until he was halfway across town, just a couple of blocks away from Stark Tower, that he decided to take a breather and collect his thoughts. Harley powered down at a nearby rooftop, letting his mask retract down to his shoulders. He let out a puff, breathing in the brisk night air.

"Phew, that was..."

"Dangerous?" Todd supplied.

Harley shot the New York City skyline a disturbed look, one that was meant for Todd. "I was gonna say exciting."

Harley could practically feel the eye roll emanating from his AI.

"You are so strange, Cowboy," Todd exclaimed, "How is hanging people from chandeliers your idea of a fun night out?"

"Oh c'mon, I was interrogating him!" Harley defended himself, "And I told you not to call me that. Just because I'm from down south doesn't mean I'm a cowboy."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say, Harley."

There it was again, his AI's stupid, unavoidable sarcastic wit.

"I hate you," Harley muttered.

Harley's helmet slammed shut.

"Oh, really mature, Todd!"

"Who's Todd?"

Harley spun around, hand splayed out in front of him in a defensive position, ready to fire. The Spider vigilante cocked his head to one side, seemingly unperturbed.

Harley lowered his hand. "Spiderman?"

"We need to talk."

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos! First off, I just want to apologize for the late update, my computer deleted the chapter halfway through my writing and I had to start all over again. So frustrating! Anyway, hope you liked this new chapter. Iron Lad, welcome to this story! Also, who is this new tech syndicate and how will they strike at the hearts of our young heroes next? I feel kinda bad. Both my lovely boys are so sad and anxious : ( Don't worry, I promise it will get better. Can't wait for us to find out what happens next! (Yeah, I too have no idea what is going to happen next chapter). Anyway, hope you enjoy this new addition! Please leave comments and feedback!

Love All, 

Your Favorite Author


	4. Chapter 4 - Only Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter meets the new vigilante in town. 
> 
> “You don’t think that you’re a good person?”
> 
> “I mean, yeah, sure I do. It’s just - what do you call someone who wants to good but - but just keeps finding ways to fuck it up?”
> 
> “Human?”
> 
> We're both human under our disguise  
> Take off your mask and look into my eyes  
> Please, Darling, tell me, we're gonna be alright  
> Because I’m all yours forever starting tonight

“We need to talk.”

Peter was glad he was wearing a mask, that way the person couldn’t see his grimace. Seriously? We need to talk? What was he about to do? Break up with him? Who says that unless they’re about to break up with someone?

“Okay.”

“Who are you?” Peter blurted out.

The man - at least Peter assumed it was going by the person’s voice - seemed to study him for a moment before replying. “I’m like you.”

Peter snorted. “I doubt that.”

He didn’t have to see the man’s face to know that he was rolling his eyes. “So maybe not exactly like you. I wasn’t bitten by a radioactive spider or given any super solider serum like the captain but I - I just want to help, okay?”

The man’s earnest tone struck Peter. Not because it was entirely convincing, but because it sounded so familiar. It sounded just like himself. Maybe this man had a point. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

That still didn’t mean Peter had to trust him though.

“Okay,” Peter said slowly, “You want to help people. Fine. But what’s with the suit? Did you steal it or are you just trying to be like Stark?”

“No! I-” The man seemed to be at a loss for words amidst his irritation, “No, this has nothing to do with the old man! I replicated his designs because they were smart and efficient, not because of any obsession or desire to be him! I have my own reasons for wanting to help the city, and it certainly doesn’t involve becoming some kind of hero! I don’t - I don’t want that.”

“So you don’t have any desire for the fame or glory that comes with the job,” Peter asked incredulously.

“No, none at all!” The man vehemently shook his head. “Trust me, if I could do this kind of work in the shadows, I would. This isn’t some power trip or - or search for validation… well, at least not from the public. I don’t know how to convince you otherwise but… I just feel like I have to do this.”

When Peter said nothing the man continued shakily. “I know, it sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Peter exclaimed hastily, “No, I get it.”

“Good,” The man nodded. “Cool. Alright then.”

There was a long silence. The two slowly shifted so that they were both staring out at the city skyline. It was peaceful up here, the rushing noise of the city too far away for them to really hear. Well, Peter could, but only if he strained his ears to listen. It was sort of odd, finally getting to share this with someone else. Peter had never really gotten the chance to just be out on a rooftop, watching the city with someone. It was always just himself, and it made this moment feel very exposing as if he were sharing a private part of himself with a complete stranger, which Peter guessed he kinda was.

“So, you really just want to help people?” Peter finally spoke up again.

The man turned to look at him. His suit went stiff and his voice hard as he told Peter, “I just want to be better.”

“Better than what?” Peter couldn’t help but ask.

The man shrugged. “Than what I am now.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think you’re a good person?”

Again, the man gave a sort of half-shrug from inside his suit, his shoulders bunching together awkwardly before falling down again. “I mean, yeah, sure I do.” His voice was raw and lacking any real conviction. His words sounded like a mantra, something he repeated to himself every night as he lay awake in bed, trying to convince himself that it was true, that he wasn’t a bad person. “It’s just - what do you call someone who wants to do good but - but just keeps finding ways to fuck it up?”

“Human?” Peter offered.

The man snorted, an abrupt, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah… it makes sense then, doesn’t it? Why I like this suit so much? I guess it makes me feel a little less… human.”

“I feel that too,” Peter admitted quietly, “When I put on the Spiderman mask, I feel better. Like even though the world still kinda sucks I can actually do something about it, you know?”

The man turned, his head tilted to one side as he looked Peter over. It was as if he was seeing straight through Peter’s mask, bearing down on his soul like the devil on judgment day. Peter tried not to shiver, tried not to let it show how much the man’s heavy stare unnerved him, even if he couldn’t even see his eyes.

Then, the man turned away again, seeming to have found what he was looking for. He gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I like you, man.”

Peter couldn’t help the small smile that began to tug at his lips. Somehow this Iron Clad vigilante seemed to just get it. Every word out of his mouth felt like a mirror image of Peter’s own hidden thoughts, fears, and desires. It was both unnerving and freeing. He had never felt anything like it before. 

Suddenly, the man perked up, his back straightening as he lifted his chin skyward just a little, almost like he was listening for something.

“What is it?”

The man turned back to Peter. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Is there trouble?” Peter said quickly, his adrenaline immediately kicking in, expecting another fight.

“Whoa, slow down there, Spidey,” The man chuckled, grabbing Peter’s fist and giving it a comforting tap. Peter blinked, not even realizing when he had started to clench his fists. “Unfortunately, this is a mess I gotta clean up on my own. As much as I wish you could come with me, it’s personal.”

“Oh,” Peter said, not sure why he was so disappointed to see him go. “Yeah, okay.”

The man gave Peter’s hand a light squeeze before stepping away. “See ya around, Spidey.”

Peter just nodded. Then, the man kicked off, using his engine thrusters to catapult him into the night sky. Peter watched him go, waiting until he disappeared behind the next building before turning and swinging away in the other direction. He usually would stay out another hour to patrol the city but after the busy night, Peter just wanted to go home to his own bed and sleep.

He had just reached the street where his apartment with Aunt May was located when there was a chime. “Incoming Call from Tony Stark.”

“Kid?” Tony’s voice patched through the system before Peter even had the option to accept the call, “Peter, talk to me.”

“Uh, I’m here, Mr. Stark. I’m alright.”

There was a crinkle of static from the other end as Tony let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god. I saw the news, Kid. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter assured him, “Really, it was no big deal.”

“They had guns, Peter.”

“Yeah, but they were sloppy,” Interjected Peter.

“Do you feel that? Do you feel me rolling my eyes? Sloppy is dangerous, Kid. Don’t ever forget that. It doesn’t take a good shot in order to do harm with a gun.”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter grumbled.

“Were there any civilian casualties? I didn’t see any in the news reports but then again, it’s the news. You can’t trust anything they say these days. I certainly don’t.”

“No, Mr. Stark. We took care of it. Everyone was fine.”

“I’m sorry, we?” Tony backtracked.

Peter winced. “Uh, yeah, that new vigilante guy. The one in a suit that looks kinda like yours but isn’t yours. He took down two of the gunmen.”

Tony swore. “H - hmph - He did what now?”

“Mr. Stark, are you okay?”

“Oh, ho, ho, I’m gonna kill him,” Tony muttered angrily, “ I told - I expressly told him to lay low. Three, maybe four days, that’s all I was asking for but no, the kid’s gotta go out and play vigilante. Stupid, stupid kids. This is why I’m going to die young. It’s all your fault.”

“Do you,” Peter paused, “Do you know him, Mr. Stark?”

There was a beat of silence from Tony’s end. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Wait, so you do know who he is! Do you know his secret identity too?” Peter didn’t know why but the notion of meeting this iron-clad vigilante face-to-face sent a tingle of anticipation down his spine.

“Yes,” Tony finally admitted, ”I do, but he’s done. I’m throwing that damn suit in the incinerator. I don’t know why I didn’t do it a while ago. It’s bad enough I already got you zipping around the city in neon tights. I’m not gonna have him out there too.”

Peter deflated. “You aren’t really going to make him give up the suit, are you?”

“What? Of course, I am. I just said so, didn’t I?”

“Mr. Stark, please don’t do that!” Peter protested before he could even stop himself.

“Why?” Tony said slowly, skepticism seeping into his tone.

“I talked to him, Mr. Stark, after the heist. I think he really just wants to help. He seemed,” Peter stopped, remembering the vigilante’s broken tone, his soft words, and his quiet fears that he wasn’t good enough. “He seemed really sad and lost. I think he believes that helping people might make him a better person.”

“Why would he-” Tony stopped short, “Never mind. I’ll have a talk with him, but this isn’t over. I’m still mad at you! You were reckless tonight, Peter, maybe too reckless.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Peter mocked, immediately freezing up as he realized what he had said. “I mean - I didn’t mean it like that. Well, that’s not to say that I don’t… think of you - ahem - but I-”

“Go to bed, Kid. Make sure your aunt knows you’re okay. We’ll talk soon.”

“Okay,” Peter squeaked before Tony ended the call. Peter groaned as he swung up onto his apartment balcony and perched himself upon the windowsill ledge. Leaning forward, Peter pressed his forehead up against the glass. God, he could be such an idiot sometimes. What was he thinking? Whatever, it didn’t matter. Right now he had other things to worry about. Most importantly, how to explain to Aunt May where he had been for the last two hours. Oh, joy!

Peter quickly zipped down into the empty alleyway behind his apartment complex. Unfortunately, he had left his suit back in the vents of city hall, along with the only pair of dress shoes he owned - yeah he would be going back for those sometime soon - but it wasn’t all lost. Peter always kept a spare change of clothes under the dumpster bin behind the complex, a space that could only be reached by moving the dumpster. Lucky for Peter, he had the strength to move it with one hand. He did so carefully, trying to remain quiet as to not disturb his neighbors who would most definitely be sleeping at this hour of the night. Once the dumpster was moved out of the way, Peter quickly changed into his new clothes - a pair of worn-out grey sweatpants and a black under armor tee. He moved the dumpster back into place, slipped his superhero suit into his pants pocket, pleasantly surprised that it actually fit, and made his way around front to the front entrance of his apartment. By the time Peter had climbed up the stairs to his apartment number and reached the front door it was already well past eleven o’clock, bordering on midnight. Nervously, Peter rapped on the front door.

There was a faint shuffling from inside before the door finally clicked open. Peter was taken aback at the dreary sight of his Aunt May. Her eyes were red and her face pale. She was still wearing her dress from the banquet but it had somehow lost its luster since the beginning of the night. More than anything, she looked tired, on the brink of collapse even.

Then, her grim features lightened, a watery smile gracing her face as she recognized who was standing at her door. “Peter?”

“Hey, Aunt May, I’m sorry about tonight. I tried to find you but-”

Peter’s half-thought out lie died in his throat as his aunt’s arms sprung forward, sweeping him into a much-needed embrace. She held on to him tightly with a force that may have caused some serious damage if he didn’t have super healing abilities. Yet he did have super healing abilities, and Peter didn’t mind the unnecessary force much, not after the night he had been through. Sure, it hadn’t been his worst match up - no buildings had fallen on him this time at least - but every night out took it’s toll on Peter, especially after the talk he had with the new vigilante and the lecture from Tony. While the vigilante intrigued him, Peter didn’t really have the brain capacity to deal with any new information right now. All he wanted to do now is enjoy this moment with his aunt.

The two stayed like that for a while, lingering comfortably in the doorway of their apartment, clinging to each other like their only solace, which they kind of were. Family was scarce for Peter, but his aunt’s unending love for him could almost make him forget that his dinner table should have more than two people.

Finally, May pulled away, holding Peter’s face in both her hands. “I love you, Peter, you know that right?”

Peter gave a soft chuckle. “Of course I do, Aunt May. I love you too.”

Aunt May nodded, mostly to herself, as she pulled her hands away from his face, opting to swipe at her eyes instead. She wasn’t crying exactly, but her eyes weren’t entirely dry either. 

  
She sniffed. “Alright, you. Off to bed. Just because you don’t have school tomorrow doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you stay up at ungodly hours of the night.”

“Yes, Aunt May,” Peter smiled, obediently sauntering off to bed but not before placing a gentle kiss on his aunt’s forehead. “Goodnight!”

“Sleep tight!” May called back.

Peter heard the light padding of footsteps as she made her way to her own bedroom. Then, he heard the click of the bedroom door and finally the rustle of covers as she nestled into bed. Peter stayed still, standing in the middle of his bedroom, staring at nothing really. He didn’t realize how long he had been spacing out until he caught the faint, but ever-present rhythm of May’s heartbeat. It was slow and steady. She was asleep now.

Peter sighed, finally allowing himself to crawl into his own bed. Not long after, his eyelids began to grow heavy. He was tired, his muscles were still raw from fighting, and his ears ringing from a whole night spent at a large banquet party. Still, Peter’s mind would not quiet. He sighed to himself inside his empty bedroom, just once he wished sleep would come easy for him. And yet, it never did. Peter had long since resigned himself to the fact that he was just not built for sleep. He didn’t have a brain that could remain idle for very long. The very idea of sleep perturbed him. What was the point? Wasn’t it just wasting time where he could be spent doing other things?

It was a long wait of staring up at his bedroom ceiling, but finally, just when the familiar red streaks of dawn started to paint the sky, Peter’s breathing evened out as the darkness finally won over, claiming him, if only for just a few hours. God only knew how much he needed it.

Peter re-awoke to the sound of the front door snapping shut. He rubbed his eyes blearily before looking out his window to find a clear-blue painted sky and streams of sunlight billowing into his room, drawing out dust particles into the visible spectrum. Peter looked over at his digital clock resting atop his nightstand. 

8:22. Not bad. 

That was two more hours than the night before, although that wasn’t really saying much.

Peter yanked back his covers with a yawn as he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up. He swayed slightly for a moment before regaining his balance enough to step forward. Soon, he found himself in the kitchen, searching for his aunt. She wasn’t there but there was a note sitting on the counter. Peter picked it up, recognizing the near chicken scratch as his aunt’s handwriting.

_ Had to leave for the hospital, might take a while. Let me know if you end up going to Ned’s or something. If not, maybe we can rent a movie tonight? I’ll be sure to bring you back some food if the hospital gives us any! They should after what we went through last night : ) LYL!! _

Peter wasn’t sure what that last part was. Was it an acronym? Just gibberish? Oh wait, was that a Y? Was she trying to say love you lots?

Peter snorted. His aunt really needed to take up a calligraphy class, or at least try to improve her penmanship. Granted, he did love his aunt, but most of the time he couldn’t read a word she wrote.

Peter crumpled up the note and deposited it in the trash. He took out his mobile phone, thumb hovering over Ned’s contacts. He could hang out with his best friend today, he could, but then he would also have to endure Ned’s constant talk about last night, a subject Peter would rather avoid just for the sake of his sanity. Sometimes Peter wished that he could just take back telling Ned his secret identity just so that he wouldn’t have to listen to the boy’s rants every time his alter ego did anything even remotely interesting. Honestly, living through the experience once was enough for Peter, thank you very much. He loved Ned, he really did, but sometimes the boy could be a bit much, even for Peter.

No, Peter could talk to Ned another day. Today Peter would use his time to relax, maybe spend of few hours working on his latest project, something involving a new design for his web-shooters. If he could make them retractable then he wouldn’t have to keep replacing the cartridges after every fight. Now wouldn’t that be amazing? If only he could get his calculations right. 

Having decided what he wanted to do today, Peter stumbled back into his bedroom to get dressed before heading over to Stark Tower. Most of his equipment was already in the labs so all he needed to bring with him was his personal laptop and the cup of coffee he bought on the way over. While on the subway, Peter sent a quick text to his aunt, explaining his plan for the day and promising that he would be home in time to watch a movie later. Entering through the main lobby of Stark Tower Peter got a ping. Looking down at his phone, Peter saw that it was a message from Aunt May. A smiling emoji with a thumbs up. He grinned, tucking his phone into his back pocket again.

As he bypassed the security gate Peter heard the voice of Friday echo through the speakers. “Good Morning, Peter.”

“Hello, Friday,” Peter greeted. He made his way down the hall, turning left and stopping in front of a set of elevator doors. They opened automatically and he stepped inside. “Say, Friday, have you talked to Mr. Starl recently?”

“Yes, if you want more information though, Peter, you’re going to have to be a bit more specific. Which floor?”

“Oh, um, to the labs, and I just meant, did he seem particularly mad about something? Oh, did he mention anything about that new vigilante?”

“He did not speak to me directly but I do know he had a phone call with the vigilante known as Iron Lad, last night at approximately 11:37 PM. The two conversed for a total of twelve minutes before the call was terminated.”

“Iron Lad,” Peter whispered, testing the name out on his tongue. It must have been a recent development - the name - because he had not heard of it until now. “And they’re good? Tony and… Iron Lad?”

“The two do not harbor any hostile feelings towards one another if that is what you are asking. In fact, the latter seemed quite pleased after Tony shared the news that he was allowed to continue freelancing.”

“Really?” Peter exclaimed, perplexed as to why this news both shocked and excited him so much. Maybe he still would have the chance to work with this new vigilante again after all.

“The lab floors, Peter,” Friday announced as the elevator doors slowly opened, “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

“No, thank you, Friday. I’m good,” Peter told the AI, stepping out of the elevator. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Peter,” The AI responded cheerily before the air around him fell silent once again.

Peter walked the rest of the way to the labs at a faster pace than before, a spring in his step that wasn’t there before. Peter tried to brush it off, telling himself it was because he was just excited to try out his new web shooter prototype. Yeah, that was it. It had nothing to do with the new vigilante known as Iron Lad.

Iron Lad… 

He just seemed so genuine, something refreshing and a bit odd seeing as Peter still had no idea what he looked like under his mask. He also seemed to care about people and the city, just like Peter did. There was also something so hauntingly familiar about the way he held himself. At first glance, you might perceive him as haughty or arrogant, but really it was all just a show. Beneath his initial exterior, the vigilante seemed to be struggling. Peter could understand that. Just as he could understand the man’s desire to be better, the man’s last hope to try and string together some kind of reason for him to start believing in himself. Most of all, Iron Lad was- 

Harley Keener? What was he doing here? 

Not wasting any time, Peter stormed into the labs, ripping the door open and rushing inside. He was intent on telling Harley to get lost so that he could work on his project in peace when something made the words die on his tongue.

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos? Hope you're enjoying the book so far! Here's another addition! That's it! Ta ta for now! ENJOY!! : )

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


	5. Chapter 5 - Everything's on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, you know how I said this fic was going to be mostly Peter’s POV? Yeah, we’re not gonna do that fam. I think I’m just gonna alternate between Harley and Peter because I love both my boys and I think it will help to round out the story, ya know?
> 
> Peter and Harley get to talking in the labs.
> 
> Uh-Oh, explosion!
> 
> Spiderman is on the scene before Harley has time to change. Que civilian Harley saving the day with his new pal spiderman. What will Peter think of him now that he knows Harley has this hidden heroic side of him?

Harley nearly sliced his finger open on a sharp piece of machinery for almost the second time that night. He yanked his hand back just in time to miss the blade, not being able to stop himself from letting out a high-pitched yelp as he did so. He cursed silently to himself. He was getting sloppy. Maybe he should stop and get some rest.

“Hey, Fri, what time is it?” Harley called out to the AI.

“It is 5:30 AM.”

“Shit,” Harley hissed. He hadn’t even noticed that the sky was already starting to gain its red streaks as the sun rose over the city’s horizon.

He gave a half-shrug. Oh well, guess it was too late to sleep now. He might as well just keep working and plan to go to bed early tomorrow - Or well, tonight, he guessed was the more accurate term.

Resuming his work, Harley let out a yawn as he spread out the schematics for one of Tony’s more expensive cars, the Lykan Hypersport out on the worktable in front of him. There were only seven models left in the world which meant that (a) this car was worth more than Harley’s life… times a hundred, and (b) Tony was very protective of it. Yet somehow, Harley had convinced the old man to let him fix it up. Tony didn’t trust just any old dealership, for any of his cars, and he was too busy to fix it himself, so when Harley had begged him for two weeks straight to let him fix the car Tony finally relented. Now, all Harley had to do was try and stay awake so that he could get the job done. 

It wouldn’t be hard, seeing as Harley could practically build a car from scratch in his sleep, but it also would be a lot harder to do it if Harley only had nine fingers to work with.

Several hours later, after much thinking and tinkering on Harley’s part, he was finally finished fixing up the car. He stepped back, admiring his handy work with a proud smirk. Not only did he get to work on a Lykan Hypersport, but he also would get to keep his life because Tony wouldn’t have to kill him for ruining his favorite car. Seemed like a job well done to Harley. He wiped his grease-stained hands on his trousers as he made his way back up to the labs. Now that the hard part was done, Harley had to write up a report on all of the modifications he had made to the car. Yeah, yeah, it was stupid, Harley knew that, but it was the only way to get Tony to agree to let him even touch the car. That way, if the car ever had any problems in the future Harley could either prove his innocence or… well let’s just hope he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Harley had finally slumped back into his desk chair in the labs and was just pulling out a pen and paper to write his notes down for Tony when something caught his eye. More correctly, someone.

Harley startled as he looked up to find Peter Parker lingering in the doorway to the labs. He was already staring at Harley though it seemed the boy was too caught up in his head to realize that Harley was staring back now.

“Jesus, Parker,” Harley exclaimed loudly, “What are you doing here?”

No, that wasn’t right. That sounded a lot harsher than Harley meant it too. He didn’t care that Peter was here, he was just a bit startled is all. Apparently, though, Peter did not seem to quite get that.

“Sorry to intrude,” Peter snapped back, not sounding in the least bit apologetic, “I didn’t know anyone would be here today.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I’ve been here for a while,” Harley admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He couldn’t fathom why his throat was suddenly so dry now, but it was.

“I can tell,” Peter snorted. Though his tone did not sound sympathetic, Peter’s eyes showed the concern he wasn’t willing to say out loud. “Anyway, I guess I’ll just go-”

“No,” Harley said quickly.

Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“I mean,” Harley started again, “I just mean that the lab is big enough for the both of us. You can stay if you want.”

Peter stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Okay,” He said, slipping all of the way into the room and making his way across the room to the farthest desktop from Harley’s. Not that Harley noticed or cared of course. “Thanks.”

Harley shrugged, trying to show that it was no problem really but again he got the feeling that this action had offended Peter somehow. It seemed that no matter what Harley did, Peter was always going to assume the worst about him. Usually, this kind of realization would make Harley gleeful as tormenting someone was always so much more fun when it was easy, like super easy, but all he felt now was disappointment, maybe even a little hurt. Wait, why did he care what Peter thought of him? He didn’t… No, no, no. Don’t even go there, Harley.

Harley shook his head, returning back to the blank piece of paper in front of him. Right, the report! Harley quickly began scribbling down a list onto the piece of scratch paper, the sound of his pen being the only noise to echo through the large labs. Harley frowned, looking back over at Peter. 

The boy was watching him.

Peter, having realized he had been caught, flushed red and turned back to his own work. Harley’s frown deepened. What was that about? Shrugging it off Harley began to continue writing. 

Ten minutes later and Harley could feel Peter’s eyes watching him again.

“What?” Harley snapped at him.

Peter’s mouth dropped open. He looked to be floundering for the right words before he finally stuttered out a quiet, “Nothing.”

Between the lack of sleep and Peter’s mixed signals and odds stares, Harley was fed up and irritated. He wouldn’t drop it. “No, Parker, please enlighten me. Is my head on fire?”

“N-No.”

“Is there someone behind me with a gun to my head?”

“No, of course not-”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Harley exclaimed rather loudly. Peter flinched, or was it a grimace? Harley couldn’t really tell from this distance.

Peter scowled, mumbling something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said you look like death!” Peter shouted angrily.

“Oh!” Harley chortled, “How very kind of you, Parker! You should make that a greeting card!” 

Harley cleared his throat, standing up from his desk table and meandering over to Peter’s station. His gate was haggard and slow as he mimicked walking with a cane and his voice took on the pitch of an elderly English woman. “Dear Cindy, Darling, thank you ever so kindly for the wonderful roses. You look like death… Anyway, look forward to our next scrabble club meeting! Signed, Merida.”

“Haha, you’re hilarious.”

Harley finally stopped at Peter’s side, a wide smirk plastered across his face. “Well, I know that, Darling. Don’t need to tell me twice.”

“Oh my god!” Peter groaned, “See, this is why I don’t like you. Every time I actually start to care you go and act like a complete prick!”

Harley blinked. His smile had quickly faded after hearing Peter’s words, leaving his face blank and confused. It was a lot to process. First an insult, then an almost compliment, followed by another insult. It was a whole freaking sandwich!

“Wait, what do you mean care? Like about me?” Harley asked.

Harley could practically see Peter’s urge to face-palm through his facial expression. “Seriously, that’s what you got out of all of that?”

Harley shifted uncomfortably. He could feel his nonchalant appearance slipping. “Well, yeah, that’s the first time you’ve ever paid me a compliment, Parker. Am I growing on you?”

“No,” Peter replied quickly, “It’s called sympathy for the weak, even if the weak is you.”

Harley couldn’t help but think that that made sense. Despite his dislike for Peter, he could see that the boy’s hostility only really extended to himself - and maybe that kid, Eugene. With everyone else, however, Peter seemed to be genuinely kind and sympathetic. At heart, Harley believed Peter to be a good person, one who was readily willing to help others. So yeah, it made sense that Harley’s sleep-deprived state would bother him, even if he didn’t necessarily like Harley.

Why didn’t Peter like him again?

_Because you’re an idiot who always seems to say or do the wrong thing_ , A voice in the back of Harley’s head supplied for him. 

_Okay, fair point,_ Harley remarked silently.

“Sorry,” Peter said, knocking him out of his thoughts, “That was too far. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” Harley waved him off. 

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think you’re weak.”

“Oh really?”

“No,” Peter shook his head, “No, I don’t. I just think you look tired.”

Harley snorted. “Well, yeah, that’s what happens when you pull an all-nighter to fix up one of Tony’s cars. Guess which one? Let me tell you, the Lykan Hypersport. There’s only seven like it in the world so you can see why I was so excited to get a look at her pretty little mechanics. I just finished up actually if you want to take a quick trip down to the garage and take a look at my handy work. Job well done if I do say so myself.”

Harley was rambling. He knew it. He also knew that his usual light-hearted enthusiasm didn’t sound as genuine as he wished it would. He blamed it on the sleep, or lack thereof.

“You still sound tired,” Peter insisted.

“And?”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“I told you I was working on the car,” Harley tried a soft chuckle as if Peter’s questions amused him rather than annoyed him.

“So that’s a no,” Peter pressed on.

Harley rolled his eyes, “Yes, Parker, that’s a no. What’s the big idea anyway? I was just excited to work on the car is all, okay?”

“Cars can wait. Usually when someone doesn’t sleep it’s because they don’t want to.”

Again, Harley let out an amused snort though he didn’t have to fake the furrowing of his brows, confused by Peter’s line of questioning. “What’s that supposed to mean, Darlin’?”

Peter shrugged. “Could mean a number of things.”

Harley crossed his arms. “And what do you think?”

“I don’t think anything,” Peter told him, “I haven’t given you the time, Keener, so don’t try and flatter yourself. I was just making the observation now because-”

“I look tired, I get it,” Harley grumbled.

“I’m not trying to insult you.”

“And yet you keep doing it anyway!” Harley threw his hands up in the air.

Peter’s jaw clicked with irritation before he snapped back. “It’s not my fault you make it so easy.”

“Back at it again with the insults, real classy, Parker!”

“I wouldn’t feel the need to insult you if you would stop being such-”

“I swear to god, Parker, you throw more insults at me and I will pick up the nearest tool and chuck it at your head!”

“Why are you so damn conceited?”

“And why are you so damn judgemental?” Harley shot back, “No, seriously. I never asked to be put under your little microscope, Parker! Every time, every single time I try to talk to you you’re always shoving this - this cracked mirror in my face. You love to point out my flaws, in fact, I think you get off on it.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it? I mean, why else would you be doing it?”

“Because you’re an asshole and you don’t even realize-”

“Don’t even realize,” Harley repeated dangerously, “Don’t even realize - Parker, that mirror you like to throw in my face. I look at it every goddamn day. I’ve seen the cracks. I know what it’s like to hate the boy inside the reflection. Trust me, I do.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?” Peter said, not looking at all impressed. Harley couldn’t blame him though. They both lived with Tony Stark. Self-hatred was just another personality quirk to them. It was a family trait, Harley guessed, well, if you included family beyond blood, which he did.

“No,” Harley gritted.

“Then what are you asking me to do, Keener, because you’re not being very clear!”

“I’m not asking you for anything! I’m trying to get you to understand!”

“Understand? Understand what?”

“I - I - this was a mistake.”

“Where are you going?” Peter called out to him as Harley began to storm off.

“Away! You clearly need the space!”

“Oh sure, I’m the one that needs the space! You’re the one that came up to me, Keener, remember?”

“And you’re the one that kept staring!”

“Well, I’m sorry for caring about your health,” Peter spat, “I promise not to let it happen again!”

“Good!” Harley shouted, ripping the door to the lab open and stalking out.

Harley waited until he was a good several halls away before waiting to catch his breath. God, he was winded! Why was he breathing so heavily? Was he worked up? Was this because of Peter? It seemed that boy always tended to bring out the worst in him, a trait Harley sorely wished Peter did not possess. 

He had a lot in common with Peter, as Tony had told him before, so in theory, they should get along great, right? Well, turns out their combined stubbornness and pride blew that theory into the ever-distant wind.

Harley huffed, running a hand through his hair.

_Stupid Peter! Stupid, stupid-_

A loud pop startled Harley out of his thoughts. Then, following the pop, there was a series of crashes and screams.

Jumping into action, Harley rushed down the hall, turning left into one of the intern labs. The first thing he noticed was the fire. Already it had begun to smother nearly one-fourth of the room. The smoke-filled air mixed with the sudden heat caused Harley to hesitate in the doorway. He was about to turn back, just so that he could grab his suit when he spotted one of the younger interns, near his age probably, crouched down behind a desk, completely oblivious to the piece of ceiling tile that was about to fall down on them.

Harley didn’t think as he charged into the room, diving across a desk, picking up a large metal tray from it as he went. He ducked and rolled, popping up on the other side, next to the intern, having just enough time to raise the tray above their heads before the piece of debris came loose and crashed down on them. Harley clenched his teeth as he felt his arm shake under the weight of the debris. His other arm instinctively came to wrap around the intern, pulling them tighter under his makeshift shield.

Once Harley was sure that the debris had ceased to fall, at least from where they were sitting, he tossed the tray to the side, turning to inspect the trembling intern.

“You good?”

They nodded.

“Good, now get out of here. I’m gonna help the others.” Harley didn’t wait for a reply as he raced over to the source of the explosion. It looked like an experiment gone wrong. Smoke was billowing from the source and fire was beginning to lick at the walls and floor and ceiling and literally anything else it could get its hands on.

From what he could tell, most everyone had cleared the room by now, save for the few that were either still frantically trying to save their work - a lost cause - or the ones that couldn’t leave, either trapped by debris or encircled by fire and smoke.

Harley quickly shoved one of the interns trying to collect their things in the direction of the door.

“But my work!” The intern exclaimed tragically.

“But your life,” Harley countered, “Now, get out of here!”

The person lingered.

“Go! Now!” 

They finally gave in, covering their mouth with their sleeve as they gave a nod and started stumbling towards the exit.

Harley turned around, just in time to see Spiderman crash through one of the lab’s windows.

Oh thank god, at least one of them was wearing a suit, Harley thought to himself.

“Hey!” Harley shouted to the masked vigilante, “Over here!”

Harley gestured to two of the interns that were currently encased in a ring of fire.

Spiderman’s eyes seemed to stall on Harley for a moment before traveling to the trapped interns. The web-slinger immediately sprung into action, letting out a spray of webs that worked surprisingly well to snuff out the fire.

“Come on!” Spiderman shouted. The interns quickly hurried across the webbed walkway, coughing and hacking their thanks to the vigilante as they passed. The vigilante in question, however, paid them no mind, already zeroing in on his next victim to save.

Harley was already trying to heave a fallen desk off of one of the interns when he felt someone come up behind him, situating themselves at his side as they too started to lift the desk. Obviously, this person was Spiderman, and obviously, Spiderman was more than strong enough to lift the desk. As Spiderman kept the desk propped up, Harley grabbed the intern’s waist and helped pull them out.

“Can you walk,” Harley asked them.

The intern tried to take a step before collapsing back into Harley’s arms. Harley caught them, holding them upright as he gave a small chuckle that quickly turned into a hacking cough. He had already inhaled more smoke than his body could handle. He, just like everybody else, was running out of time.

“Go ahead. Get them to safety,” Spiderman instructed, “I’ll save the rest.”

“No,” Harley said. He stopped one of the intern’s rushing past them, handing the one-legged intern off to them so that they could help carry them out. Harley turned back to Spiderman, shooting him a hard look. “I’m not leaving you. We leave when everyone is cleared and safe, deal?”

Spiderman didn’t seem pleased with this answer but he finally gave in, giving Harley a firm nod. “Deal,” He agreed tightly, knowing Harley wasn’t going to budge and that arguing would only waste time.

After that, the two worked quickly, freeing and saving the rest of the interns until there was no one left and everyone else was out.

“I think that was the last - the last one!” Harley shouted over the roaring of the fire. His vision was starting to blur and Harley swayed on his feet.

He started to fall but Spiderman was able to brace him against his chest before he could get too far. Harley tried to shake him off but another wave of hacking coughs drove him back into Spiderman’s arms. As much as he wanted to make it out by himself, Harley could already feel his legs beginning to turn to rubber, disobeying the part of his brain telling them to stay strong.

“I - I can’t…” Harley’s head lulled, landing on Spiderman’s shoulder. Had Spiderman always been this short? Harley tried to inhale again but there was a stinging in his chest. His throat was raw and his eyes were beginning to water. For a cold moment, Harley wondered if he would even make it out of this room alive.

Then, a strong pair of arms circled around his back and under his legs. Harley felt himself being lifted up as Spiderman began to walk him through the fire. Harley clung onto the superhero with every inch of strength he had left. At the moment, Harley couldn’t tell if the tears slipping out of his eyes were from the smoke or his own fear. All he knew was that Spiderman could save him. He trusted the vigilante enough to do that much.

Finally, finally, Harley felt the air become fresh again as Spiderman led them a safe distance away from the fire. Sure, Harley still felt like he was dying, but at least he could breathe again.

He let out another string of coughs. Okay, maybe not. Harley groaned, licking his lips as he tried to form coherent words. “Wh-is-the-the-”

“Shh,” Spiderman hushed him as he carried Harley all the way to the Stark Tower Med Wing. Several people either tried to divert the vigilante’s attention or offered to take Harley themselves but the vigilante had shaken them all off, seemingly determined to deliver Harley there himself. Harley would have been flattered if he hadn’t been coughing up a lung or nearly unconscious for most of it.

When they finally made it to the med wing Harley felt himself being lowered onto one of the cushiony medical beds. 

“B-But I’m dirty,” Harley whined, his nose wrinkling as he could see, even with his impaired vision, how the soot on his clothes was already starting to contaminate the bedsheets.

He heard Spiderman chuckle from somewhere above him. “Quit worrying about the bedsheets, Princess. Just take care of yourself, okay? You did a good thing today. You helped save a bunch of people.”

“So did you,” Harley mumbled.

“Yeah,” Spiderman admitted, “I guess we don’t make a half-bad team, wouldn’t you say?”

Harley hummed in agreement before it quickly turned into another cough. He was doing that a lot. Should he be worried?

“Alright, take it easy there,” Spiderman said. Harley smiled softly as he felt a gloved hand rake through his hair. It felt nice, the sensation sending him over the edge as he felt the last of his strength seep out of him. In the last moments before the darkness consumed him Harley could have sworn heard the vigilante whisper softly in his ear. “I’m sorry, Harls, I’m so sorry.”

But that was just his imagination, right?

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos! Not gonna lie, so proud of myself for updating so regularly with this book. I'm spoiling you guys, truly, I am. Yet I don't want to stop because I am so in love with this story and I hope you are too! I especially loved writing this chapter because it had the perfect combo of both heavy banter and action! We also got to see some relationship development between Peter and Harley - maybe not a lot but some - which is always fun. I mean, that's what we're all here for, right? Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed it! Please leave a kudos or comment below. Thanks a billion!

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


	6. Chapter 6 - Bench Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is struggling. After an alarming turn of events, he comes to realize that he has made some mistakes, some more recently than others. While Peter tries to navigate his internal thoughts and emotions, he gets some feedback from a trusted, wise sage - jk, it’s MJ but close enough, right?
> 
> Also, Pepper and Tony are worried about their sons.

Quick Author’s Note:

If you didn’t already gather from the last chapter. Peter was kinda - okay, a massive - jerk to Harley and clearly has some issues he is working through. I do not condone this type of behavior and actually hate the bad boy lover trope as it often causes people to accept toxic and sometimes abusive behavior. That being said, I felt the dialogue between Harley and Peter in the last chapter was necessary because it showed that Peter is not as innocent and perfect as most fics like to portray him and that, just like every other character, he is not perfect. Hopefully, Peter will be able to grow and improve his character in the future, but I guess you’ll have to read more to find out!

* * *

Peter watched from his bench as the people of New York strolled past him, unaware of the turmoil that he was currently facing. Peter had thought he knew what he was doing; he thought he had it all figured out. Despite the unexplainable ache in his chest, Peter was still happy, wasn’t he? 

So why did he feel so messed up?

Peter felt the bench creak as a figure sat down next to him. He turned his head to find MJ, sitting with her fall jacket wrapped tight around her as she too looked out at the park, watching the people as they came and went. Her face was furrowed though Peter couldn’t tell if that was because of the cool autumn air or the fact that she was thinking about something.

“What am I doing here, Pete?”

Peter froze. MJ usually wasn’t one to start up a conversation but he guessed she had a right to be curious. After all, it was his idea to invite her here. Not to mention, right after a news report had been released that Spiderman had saved several Stark Interns from a lab fire.

“Oh, r-right,” Peter started, “I guess I just wanted to talk to you?”

There was a pause. “I’m listening.”

“Right - um, I’m guessing you saw the report. Well, of course, you saw the report, Ned texted it to the group chat. Unless you didn’t read it yet, which is totally fine and-”

“I saw it, Peter,” MJ said.

“Okay, cool. Well, as you know, there was a fire in one of Mr. Stark’s labs today and I kinda helped save a bunch of people. Not as me, of course, as you know - him. Anyway, what I really wanted to say is I had help. I… Keener was there.”

MJ’s eyes widened, the only indication that she was intrigued by this piece of information.

“He was in Mr. Stark's private labs with me when we kinda got into a fight. He left but as soon as he walked out I heard the screams and with my heightened senses I was able to smell the smoke. Thankfully, I had my suit packed in my computer bag so I put it on and went to go help except Harley was already there.”

Peter paused in his long spiel, trying to gauge MJ’s reaction but her face was still unreadable as ever. He sighed before continuing.

“He helped save a lot of people and I don’t think I could have done what I had done if he hadn’t been there with me.”

It was hard for him to admit but it was the truth. There had been too many people for him to help all at once but with Harley they had been able to work together, freeing as many people as they could and getting everyone to safety. Peter thought back to what Harley had said to him when he had tried to get him to leave with the others.

“He said I’m not leaving you,” Peter whispered softly as if repeating the words out loud was breaking some sort of oath. “I just don’t understand. Why would he do something like that? He didn’t even have a suit. Hell, he’s in the med wing now probably still coughing up a lung. I mean how could he be so-”

“Brave?”

Peter dragged a hand tiredly across his face. “I was gonna say stupid.”

“He’s not stupid,” MJ said tersely.

“I know that.”

“Do you?” MJ cut in, “Because ever since you’ve known the guy you’ve treated him like dirt.”

“I - I know that,” Peter stuttered, not liking that MJ chose this exact moment to turn and face him. Her gaze was piercing and her mouth was curled down into a deep frown. She looked like a mother disappointed in her son. Peter didn’t like that look on her.

“Then why don’t you stop?”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?” MJ said loudly.

“Because I’m not supposed to like him!” Peter immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t even known he was going to say the words until they came flying out of his mouth.

MJ’s face shifted. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t mean that-”

“What do you mean,” MJ asked again, emphasizing each word in a slow and pointed manner.

“I don’t - I don’t know!” Peter said, throwing his arms up wildly, “I just don’t want to. He’s so confident and self-assured and Tony loves him and you love him-”

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me, Parker.”

“I’m not. I’m sorry. I just meant that he just seems so… so perfect.”

“You mean he seems like a better version of you.”

Peter knew she didn’t mean it as an accusation, that she was only trying to tell him what his subconscious had been trying to tell him for weeks, but the words still made him blanch. 

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled, “I guess so. It was just hard, you know? This - this guy shows up out of nowhere and suddenly he’s garnered the attention of Mr. Stark, Mrs. Potts, my English teacher… everyone! I was just….” 

Peter’s eyes widened.

“I was jealous,” He breathed.

MJ nodded as if she had known this was the case all along. Of course, she had.

“Letting people in can be hard,” She stated, “But maybe sharing your loved ones is harder. I know you think love comes short for you. I know you have every reason to think that too, being through what you’ve been through, but that doesn’t mean you get to lash out at Harley just because he makes you feel insecure.”

“I know,” Peter moped, “And that’s what makes what I said to him today so much worse.”

MJ’s eyes narrowed. “What did you- you know what, I don’t want to know. Just make it right.”

“But how?”

MJ stood up from the bench. She looked Peter squarely in the eyes, hands still stuffed tightly into her jacket pockets. “You start with an apology.”

Peter nodded glumly.

MJ went to leave but she stopped a few feet away and turned back around. “And Peter.”

Peter lifted his head. “Yeah?”

“I know it can be hard, living the life you do, but I hope you know you’re not in this alone. You have a lot of people that care about you… including me.”

Peter smiled, and it felt good. “Thanks, MJ, for everything.”

MJ shot him her trademark grin. It was small and easy to miss at first, but it was one of the warmest smiles Peter had ever seen. MJ might not wear her heart on her sleeve but there was no doubt that it was there.

“Yeah, whatever, Loser,” MJ said lightly before leaving him to plan out his next move.

Peter didn’t know how long he sat there thinking before suddenly, his phone rang in his pocket. Jumping slightly, Peter went to fish it out. He checked the caller ID. It was Pepper.

“Hello?” Peter answered hesitantly.

“Oh, Peter, Honey, there you are!” Pepper’s voice flooded through the speaker, her relief palpable through the phone. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of Harley but he isn’t answering. Are you all alright? Is everyone okay? Tony and I read about the fire. Do you want us to come back home because I swear I can-”

“Mrs. Potts, it’s fine, I promise. We got everyone out safely. Everyone is going to be alright. There’s no need to get on a plane just yet,” Peter chuckled.

“Thank goodness! I was so - wait, did you say we? Was that new vigilante Iron Lad with you?”

“Oh, um, no,” Peter admitted slowly, “Keener - I mean, Harley was there too. He helped get a lot of the interns to safety.”

“Harley,” Pepper repeated the name as if, for some reason, she couldn't comprehend it, or at least the context in which it was given. “Harley was there. Okay, okay. Are you with him now? Can I speak to him?”

“No,” Peter winced, he hated to be the one to deliver the bad news but he guessed he rather it be him rather than anyone else, “Harley is still… recovering.”

“Recovering?” Pepper practically shouted into the phone. Peter audibly winced, pulling the offending speaker away from his sensitive ears. “Sorry, I just - is Harley going to be alright? What happened?”

“Well, when I arrived on the scene as Spiderman, Harley was already there. He was too stubborn to leave until everyone was out of the room. I think he inhaled a lot of smoke. I carried him to the Med Wing and left him with the nurses. He seemed stable when I left. He also fell asleep pretty quickly but I think that has more to do with the all-nighter he tried to pull last night rather than the fire.”

“Ugh, that boy,” Pepper huffed in exasperation, “Too much like Tony for his own good. I should have Friday keep an eye on him for a while. Thank you for taking care of him today, Peter. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to check in on him later?”

Any other day Peter would have found the request insulting but after his discussion with MJ, his perspective seemed to be expanding. This wasn’t about him. This was about Pepper and Harley and everyone else who was negatively affected by the fire. He was allowed to feel jealous, he couldn’t control that, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to act on his feelings. Right now, Pepper, someone he cared for deeply, was anxious, and it was his job to do the right thing and help to ease her worries.

“Of course I can, Mrs. Potts, no trouble at all,” Peter replied softly.

The release of nerves coming from Pepper’s end made Peter’s heart swell. _See, that wasn’t so hard_ , He told himself.

“Oh, wait! Hold on, Peter,” Pepper cut in suddenly, “I think Tony-”

“Hey Kiddo,” Tony’s voice crackled through the speaker, “How you holding up? Peps and I heard about the fire? No one died, did they?”

“Tony!” Pepper reprimanded him.

“What? You know, a fire’s one thing but casualties? In my own building? The press would have a field day with that.”

“Tony-”

“Hey, don’t give me that look, you’re not the one with your name plastered on the front of the building. That’s my reputation on the line, Hun. Some interns want to mess that up with a little house fire? Well, that’s still on me.”

“Really? That’s what you want to focus on right now? Your reputation? Both of your boys were in that fire today. Have a little sympathy.”

“Iron Lad was there? Huh, I didn’t see anything in the news about that. You think that it would be, given the kid’s rise to stardom recently they would be itching to talk about him.”

“No,” Pepper said pointedly, “I was talking about Harley.”

“Yeah, that’s what I-”

“Isn’t that right, Peter,” Pepper interjected before Tony could finish, “Didn’t you say that Harley was there with you?”

“Uh yeah. He was there,” Peter confirmed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he felt that he was intruding on a private argument meant solely for Tony and Pepper’s ears.

“Harley’s in the hospital right now, Tony.”

“The hospital?”

“Uh, the Stark Med Wing actually,” Peter corrected.

“What happened?”

“He inhaled a lot of smoke from the fire. He doesn’t have a suit like Peter does, remember?”

Somehow Pepper’s tone told Peter that he was missing something. The other line went silent for a moment. “Um, hello? Mrs. Potts? Are you guys still there?”

“Yeah, Kid, we’re still here,” Tony answered, “Look, we gotta go. Urgent matters of state and whatnot. You know the drill. Pepper and I will be back on Tuesday. Until then, no swinging after ten and be sure to check up on Harley. The kid will probably end up losing a lung before Tuesday at the rate he’s going at.”

“Will do, Mr. Stark. Have a pleasant rest of your trip.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Pepper said, “And don’t forget to take care of yourself too! We will see you on Tuesday!”

“Bye, Kid.”

“Bye, Mr. Stark. Bye, Mrs. Potts.”

The line went dead and Peter let out a tired sigh. Today had been a long day. Peter pulled his phone away from his ear, checking the time.

“10:30!” Peter yelled. How could it only be 10:30? To Peter, it felt like a whole day had gone by already but it turns out it wasn’t even lunch yet.

Peter let out another long, resigned sigh. Since he didn’t have anything else to do, at least not until tonight when he promised to rent that movie with Aunt May - speaking of which he should probably text her so that she knows he’s alright - Peter decided he might as well head back to Stark Tower for a little bit. Even if he didn’t end up getting any work done, the least he could do is check up on Harley.

On the walk back to the tower Peter contemplated what he might say if Harley was awake when he visited. Should he apologize right away? Should he wait until Harley was recovered? Peter knew MJ would probably be disappointed if he didn’t at least say something in way of an apology but the cowardly part of Peter wondered if maybe Harley and Him could just forget this whole day and move on, no uncomfortable words necessary.

Of course, all of this worrying was for nothing as when Peter finally got to the Med Wing Harley was still fast asleep. Not really surprising though seeing as the kid had already been up for more than 24 hours previously. Peter wouldn’t even be surprised if Harley slept in until tomorrow.

Peter turned, ready to leave the way he came when a nurse came over to him, a kind smile on her face.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Francis,” The woman said. Peter nearly smacked himself for thinking this woman was a nurse. Her attire was completely different from that of the other people in the room, dawning a white doctor’s coat instead of the blue nurse’s scrubs. How could he be so unobservant? Though in Peter’s defense, he was so exhausted he could barely see straight. Maybe he should be the one lying down on one of the medical beds.

“Hi, Dr. Francis,” Peter greeted, holding out his hand which the doctor gladly accepted, giving it a firm shake. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

“And who are you here to visit, Mr. Parker?”

Peter pointed to Harley’s bed, feeling suddenly shy for some reason.

“Ah, Mr. keener.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “You know him?”

“No,” Dr. Francis laughed, “At least not personally. Mr. Keener has woken up quite a few times since his admission into the wing. He’s very… vocal.”

“What do you mean? He isn’t in any pain, is he,” Peter asked, immediately worrying about what he might have to tell Pepper and Tony later.

“No, no, nothing like that. Don’t you worry, Mr. Parker,” Dr. Francis chuckled, “Mr. Keener is feeling fine. In fact, some of our best nurses have already followed the necessary procedures and flushed out most of the smoke from his lungs. He’s almost fully recovered. He just needs rest. Did you know that he hasn’t slept in almost two days?”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Peter said exasperatedly as if he were dealing with an untrained puppy.

At that, the doctor chuckled again. “You must have your hands full with him. Already he’s woken up two times just to tell our nurses on how to better improve efficiency in the workplace, and the last time he woke up, about a half an hour ago, he complained about how boring it was here before proceeding to order us to release him immediately.”

Peter couldn’t help the laugh that rose up from his chest as he looked over at the boy in question with a look of incredulous amusement. “So what did you do?”

“I told him that if he could walk out of here on his own he was free to go!” Dr. Francis was laughing too now. “And then - and then the boy proceeded to walk straight into that doorway over there. Of course, we had to get him back to bed after that but the nurses and I had quite a laugh about it. I think it cheered up the rest of our guests in here as well.”

The doctor smiled fondly down at Harley. “A lot of the other patients also said he helped save their lives.”

“He did,” Peter said immediately and without hesitation. Then, he added, “He shouldn’t have but he did.

“Your friend is really something special, Mr. Parker,” Dr. Francis stated. 

Peter frowned. “Uh, thank you, Doctor.”

Dr. Francis nodded before moving on to her next patient.

Peter left the medical wing soon after. He needed to get to the labs.

He needed to think.

* * *

A/N:  
  
What's up, Kiddos! Another post! Woohoo! I know this one was a little short but I kind of am lazy and hate to write transition periods. I like to just skip to the good stuff so that's why this chapter is so short. I know it's mostly just a filler but it's still important to the story. Anyway, the next chapter will be action-packed, I promise! Enjoy : )

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


	7. Chapter 7 - Harley can't catch a break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all in the title folks!
> 
> "You’re a good person and I see now why Mr. Stark likes you so much. You’re smart and funny and brave and, to be honest, I’m still a little intimidated by you.”
> 
> “Is it because I’m so gorgeous?”
> 
> “Y-No!” Peter stuttered, “No - I - why did you have to ruin the moment like that? I thought we were connecting!”

When Harley finally went back to school after almost two weeks of being on ‘medical leave’ - really he was fine but Tony was a spoil-sport like that - he hadn’t expected so many people to be happy to see him back.

“Harley, hey! What’s up, man? It’s been ages!”

“Harley! How are you?”

“Hiya Harley, been a while!”

Harley had to admit, the swarm of people that seemed to gather around him at the door to his first-period class was both heart-warming and overwhelming. Then, the questions started to come.

“I heard you were in the Stark fire, is that why you were out for so long?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harley answered, not knowing how much Tony wanted him to tell people. He had talked with the old man after he and Pepper flew back Tuesday night which basically just consisted of the two fawning over him and then simultaneously congratulating and reprimanding him for being so reckless. You can guess who was doing what there. Then, Tony had told him to keep the whole event private, and to only tell the people at his school things that had already been stated in the news. Apparently, it had a lot to do with privacy laws and STEP - Stark Tower Emergency Protocol - regulations and a bunch of other stuff Harley had decided not to listen to.

“Do you have any scars now?”

“What? No.”

“What happened? Why were you out so long?”

“I inhaled a lot of smoke. To- The doctors kept me on the medical arrest until my lungs were one-hundred percent cleared.”

“How do you feel?”

“Better?”

“Alright, class,” Harley’s professor cut in, saving him from having to ask any more question, “Let’s let Mr. Keener get to his seat. I’m sure he’s had a rough last couple of weeks and would appreciate it if you all would give him some time to re-acclimate back into his normal routine.”

His classmates let out a couple of resigned groans as they all trudged back to their seats. Harley exhaled, sending his teacher a grateful look before scrambling over to his seat. He dropped his bag next to him and quickly took out a notebook and paper. Now, he didn’t normally take notes, he never really needed to, but Harley hoped it would show people that he was here to learn and keep them from pestering him with more questions throughout the class. Oh, how futile were his attempts at normalcy.

Not even three more minutes into the class period, shortly after the first bell had rung, did one of Harley’s classmates raise their hand.

“Yes, Miss. Cassidy?” Harley’s teacher called on the young girl who was currently sitting two rows to the left of Harley’s desk. Laura Cassidy - a bright student, pretty funny too, but soon she was about to become Harley’s worst enemy.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Pendanko, but I was just wondering,” She suddenly turned to look at Harley, as did several other students much to his dismay, “Did you get to meet Spiderman?”

The whole class fell silent, all eyes were on Harley now. Even Mrs. Pendanko was watching him intently, waiting for an answer. In this instance, Harley had three options. He could, one, lie, though he didn’t know how well that would go over with the class or if he could even be convincing enough to make them believe him. Or he could deflect, one of his personal favorites when asked a hard question. He could say that it was confidential, that he couldn’t discuss any part of the event with people outside of Stark Industries but Harley had a feeling that would just make them think that he was hiding something, which he was. 

Or…

“Yes,” Harley answered.

Or he could tell the plain and simple truth.

The whole class broke out into a riot. Several people all started shouting at once, a few of them even getting up out of their chairs to get closer to Harley. Question after question started spewing in his direction like a high-pressure broken pipe. Their mouths were moving so fast, and their words so jumbled together, that Harley could barely even understand what they were saying, let alone have the capacity to answer them. It was a mess and Mrs. Pendanko, unlike last time, could not save Harley from his classmates. She couldn’t even be heard over the mess of yells and the screeching of chairs as more people got up out of their seats, inching their way closer to Harley until he was completely surrounded.

Finally, after what felt like hours of sitting in front of a mass of angry, hungry lions, his classmates finally calmed down enough to the point where he could start to understand each of their questions.

“How did you meet him,” One of his classmates asked.

“Well, he was saving people and I was there.”

“Did you get to talk to him?”

“Briefly, but we were kind of both preoccupied with the fire surrounding us,” Harley said, sarcasm edging into his tone.

“What did he say?”

“Um, I think something along the lines of ‘get out of here’?” Harley shrugged.

Several of the people surrounding him began to nod fervently, eyes wide as if Spiderman had just said those exact words to them and they were ready to jump out of the nearest window to do it. Honestly, Harley was surprised they were all so impressed. He knew that being in a fire wasn’t nothing but this was just ridiculous. They were all staring at him like he was about to read off Santa’s Naughty and Nice list, like what he said next could change their entire lives.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? That’s so cool dude!”

“Yeah, what did you say back?”

At this, Harley chuckled, his hand reaching up to self-consciously rub the back of his neck. “No?”

Any noise in the room quickly hushed as they all stared at Harley in disbelief. 

“You told him ‘no’?”

“How could you say no to Spiderman?”

“Wow, you’re so brave!”

“You’re crazy, man!”

“What happened next?”

“Yeah, tell us what happened next!”

“Not much,” Harley shrugged, a nervous smile still playing at his lips. He wasn’t used to all this attention, and while he didn’t necessarily dislike, it was still a bit overwhelming. He also couldn’t help but think that this story was going to be mutated beyond belief as it traveled through the school for the rest of the day.

“Come on, Harley, give us more than that! What aren’t you telling us?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Harley insisted, “I tried to help everyone out. The smoke started to be too much, so I kinda sorta passed out.”

“How did you get out then?”

Another nervous chuckle from Harley. His next words were either going to make the high school population either love him or hate him.

“I’m, uh, I’m pretty sure he carried me out?”

What happened next was so much worse than a riot. It was complete and utter chaos. Mrs. Pendanko never even stood a chance.

The next seven hours were torture for Harley. The rest of the day he could not get a single moment of reprieve as he was constantly bombarded with either questions or sympathies. All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they were before the fire when he could actually get a moment to himself. It seemed, however, that the universe was not on his side today. 

What’s worse were the stories that he started to hear circling the school. At first, it had started out reasonably accurate - him helping Spiderman save a couple of interns. That’s when it all started to go downhill. Before he knew it, Harley was the secret love child of Black Widow and Superman, he had telekinetic superpowers, and, according to Jet Simon, a kid in Harley’s Advanced Psychics class, Harley and Spiderman had been secretly dating for the past five years despite Harley’s adamance that ‘how could I have been in a relationship with Spiderman five years ago? I was living in Tennessee and he hadn’t even made his first appearance yet!’. Jet’s answer had been, ‘because he was living with you in Tennessee!’ like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Harley had just groaned loudly and slammed his head into his desk.

By the time the last bell had rung, signaling that school was officially over, Harley was ready to take a running leap off the Brooklyn Bridge. He bolted for the front door of the school - quite literally - to avoid any people that might try to follow him home. That was another thing Harley didn’t need - them finding out he lived in Stark Tower.

Harley had just entered Stark Tower and was ready to go up to his room and sleep for eternity when someone fell into step beside him. Harley bit back a groan, knowing the person was probably going to ask him another stupid question.

“What?” Harley demanded sharply, not even looking over to see who might be there.

“Hi,” The person said brightly. When silence followed their greeting Harley looked over at them curiously. It was Laura Cassidy, one of his classmates from his first-period advanced engineering class. She was wearing a bright smile, her hands clasped together loosely behind her back as she walked beside him.

Harley quickly did a double-take. “Um, hi, Laura is it?”

Laura nodded.

“Look I don’t mean to be rude but I’ve had a long day and I’d rather not answer any more questions.”

“Okay,” Laura shrugged, still refusing to leave his side as he entered the elevator. The doors closed and Harley waited for her to press a floor. She didn’t. Instead, Laura was staring straight at Harley, almost expectantly. His hands twitched to rub the back of his neck but Harley refrained. Whatever this girl wanted, he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she was making him uncomfortable.

After a long pause, Harley finally snapped. “Can I help you?”

“You already have.”

“O-Okay?”

“And I just wanted to say thank you, but,” Laura drawled, pressing the ‘open doors’ button, “I guess if you don’t remember then that’s that.”

Harley’s face scrunched in confusion. He honestly couldn’t recall a single time before today when he and Laura had interacted. They didn’t exactly sit next to each other in class and - unless she wasn’t talking about school. Harley’s eyes widened just as the elevator doors opened and Laura began to step out again. 

“Wait!” His arm shot out to grip her wrist, stopping her in the elevator’s doorway. Laura turned around, amusement sparking in her eyes. “You - You were there, at the fire, weren’t you? I-”

“Saved my life?”

Harley retracted his hand from her wrist, ducking his head. “I mean I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh how modest,” Laura teased, a mocking lit in her tone, “Don’t brush it off, Texas, I thought your Captain America impression was spot on.”

Harley was offended for several reasons. “I’m from Tennessee!”

Laura shrugged disinterestedly.

“And I was not trying to be like Captain America! The metal tray was sitting there and - and what did you want me to do? Let the ceiling fall on you?”

Laura smirked, her smug expression making Harley feel as if he were missing something. He growled. “And another thing - this whole day,” He gestured around wildly before pointing an accusing finger at her, “All your fault!”

Laura let out an exaggerated gasp. “How could you, Texas, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life!”

“You asked me about Spiderman in class today!”

“I was just curious,” Laura feigned innocence.

“You were there! You already knew that I had met him, hell, even you met him!” Laura cocked her head sideways, looking as though she was thoroughly amused by Harley’s distress. Harley huffed. Arguing with her was useless, especially since he knew he could work himself into a tizzy without her ever batting an eye. “You know what, you’re just evil.”

“I prefer the term, diabolical. After all, there was a reason for my madness,” Laura winked before stepping out of the elevator’s doorway and into the hall again. This time Harley let her, his brain too busy processing her words to fully comprehend that she was moving.

Then, for the second time that day, Harley’s eyes widened as it finally hit him. “The Unit Fourteen Exam.”

Laura shot him a pair of finger guns as the doors to the elevator closed shut. Harley was left standing in the elevator, mouth agape. He couldn’t believe it. All of the torture he had gone through today, all of it had happened because of Laura. Harley didn’t know whether to be outraged or impressed.

“Are you alright, Mr. Keener,” Friday asked.

Harley jumped slightly, startling into action as he leaned forward to press his floor button. Then, Harley leaned back, crossing his arms as he shook his head and let out a low chuckle. “Yeah,” He told Friday, looking up at the security camera as he did so, “Yeah, I think I just made a new friend.”

By the time Harley got down to the labs and began working on his next project, enhancing the laser focus on one of his suit’s radiation beams, he was beyond ecstatic to just spend the next couple of hours to himself in peace. Tinkering had always helped calm him after a long day. Give him a pair of headphones and a box of scrap materials and he could be content to spend the rest of his day right there building something. It didn’t even have to be a cool something, one time Harley built a microwave with nothing but a broken metal tin, a couple of electrical batteries, and wire cutters. Granted the thing took twelve minutes to microwave a single bag of popcorn but at least it was operational. Harley’s smile at the memory waned as he remembered the reason he had been so stressed that week.

That was the week Harley’s mom had met Mason Reynolds.

Harley felt a breath of hot air hit the back of his neck, making him shudder. His eyes slowly slipped out of focus and his fingers began to lose circulation from clenching the edge of the workbench with a little too much force.

“It’s all in your head,” Harley muttered to himself, “Just a memory. Memories can’t hurt you when they’re in the past. It’s all in your head. Focus, Harley, focus.”

Harley blinked, shaking his head as he tried to banish the memories from his consciousness. Still, his fingers held on tighter. They were beginning to tingle with feeling but Harley liked it that way. It kept him grounded, in the moment.

“I - I’m safe. I am untouchable. Abby is safe - Abby. I should call Abby,” Harley fumbled for his phone, searching through the scrap metal and various blueprints littering the table in front of him. “Where is it, damn it!”

Harley sprung to his feet, whirling around and throwing things out of the way in a violent search for his missing mobile. After a couple of minutes of still not being able to find it, Harley began to feel a pressure building up behind his eyes. He wasn’t crying, not yet, but he was about to. He knew the feeling all too well. Harley inhaled deeply, both hands rising to clasp together and sit atop his head in hopes that it would better help him breathe. Was the air getting thinner or was it just him? 

God, and he had been doing so well too. It had been months since his last episode. Harley liked to think that playing around as Iron Lad had been a part of that but he knew the truth was he had just been suppressing the pain, until now that is. Too many memories we're filling up the space in his head, his thoughts were dancing past him, chaotic yet unreachable. It was the heavy weight in his chest and the clench of his jaw and the drop of his stomach. This was worse than smoke in his lungs. That had been physical pain, but no, no this was much worse. This seemed so much more real, so vibrant, so inescapable.

“Keener?” Harley’s eyes snapped up, wildly and red as they stared into the concerned face of Peter Parker. “Are - Are you okay?”

Harley shook his head violently, a whimpering escaping his lips before he could help it. He skittered back like a stray, world-worn kitten.

“Whoa - hey,” Peter held his hands up, letting Harley have his space, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“No,” Harley rasped, avoiding Peter’s gaze, “No, I’m not.”

“Alright, you’re not,” Peter agreed. There was a pause, one which Harley took to collect his breath. “How can I help?”

Harley squinted at Peter warily, surprised to find the boy looking concerned and quite eager to be of assistance. That was new. Well, new for Harley at least. Then, Harley remembered what Peter had told him all those weeks ago and suddenly all of his defenses were back up again.

Harley sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his sleeve. He straightened his posture before gathering enough strength to shoulder past Peter. “You can leave me alone.”

“Wait, Keener, come on,” Peter whined, trailing after him, “I - I told you I was sorry. I don’t know what else to do. Would you please just - Harley, look at me!”

Harley halted in his tracks, frozen in time - another time. He wasn’t safe.

“Oh shit, Harls, I’m so sorry. I - I don’t know what I was thinking,” Peter rushed back over to Harley so that he was standing in front of him again. His hands hovered awkwardly between them like he wanted to touch and comfort Harley but knew that doing so would just make things worse. “That was stupid of me. You’re clearly panicking and I just yelled at you which definitely didn’t help but you panicking made me panic and I can’t believe I just did that. I am sorry. I am so so sorry. I totally understand why you’ve been ignoring me this past couple of weeks. I know I’ve been a - a jerk, like a really big one. I get it if you never want to talk to me again but I - I don’t want to cause you any pain. I don’t know what’s happening to you but I really do just want to help. I-I’ll leave now but if - but if you need anything I’m here, okay? Okay, yeah, I’m just gonna-”

Peter went to leave but a hand shot out to grip his, startling him into submission as he stilled instantly under the touch. Harley met Peter’s eyes. He was struggling to find the right words but Peter seemed more than willing to wait, only staring back at him with unabashed desperation to please which would have made Harley snort under any other circumstance.

“I’m sorry,” Harley whispered slowly, his face breaking out into a watery smile, “I’m a mess.”

Peter’s lips twitched of their own accord as he gave Harley’s hand a light, comforting squeeze. “I’m not judging.”

“Really?” Harley scoffed, “That’s a first.”

Peter frowned. “I don’t know how else to say this but what I said to you was wrong and cruel and I truly am sorry, Harley.”

“I know. You’re a good person, Peter,” Harley gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “I guess I just seem to bring out the worst in people.”

“No, you don’t!” Peter’s answer was immediate and passionate, surprising them both. “I mean - you’re not so bad either, I guess.”

Peter winced at the bad delivery but it only made Harley’s chest lighten more. The awkwardness made it all the more real.

“Shit, that didn’t come out right either.”

Harley chuckled, a small smile beginning to form at the corner of his lips. “I’s’all right.”

“No, it’s not. I can do better,” Peter cleared his throat before looking Harley straight in the eyes and saying, “I don’t hate you, Harley. I never did. I only acted like it because I was jealous. I judged you because I wanted so desperately to find a flaw in you because I thought that if I could do that then maybe-”

“You’re life could go back to the way it was before I came barging in?”

“I - yeah, kind of,” Peter admitted shyly, “But you deserve better than that, Harls. You’re a good person and I see now why Mr. Stark likes you so much. You’re smart and funny and brave and, to be honest, I’m still a little intimidated by you.”

“Is it because I’m so gorgeous?”

“Y-No!” Peter stuttered, “No - I - why did you have to ruin the moment like that? I thought we were connecting!”

Harley laughed, not just a small chuckle but a genuine laugh that made his face scrunch up with glee and made feeling come rushing back into his chest and stomach and fingers. He could actually breathe again.

“Sorry, Peter,” Harley said, not breaking his smile, “Only Tony and I are connected. He called dibs first.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Peter said, smiling back at him.

Harley let out another laugh and the two were able to stand there for a moment in comfortable silence as they enjoyed the first civilized moment between them. It was a nice moment and it made Harley wish they could have more of them in the future.

“So,” Peter said after a while, “Do you still need help with anything or are you good for now?”

Harley let out a shaky breath. “I - I’ll be okay. Could you maybe help me find my cellphone though?”

“Of course. Here, tell me your number and I’ll call it real quick.” Peter went to fish out his phone from his pocket only to look down and see that his hand was still securely intertwined with Harley’s. Both boys blushed as Harley reluctantly pulled away so Peter could grab his phone. Then, Harley repeated his number and the two waited to hear the ring. 

Peter found it first, hidden beneath a stack of papers on a desk separate from the one Harley had been working on. He must have put it down earlier before moving to a different station to work and then forgot about it.

“Thanks,” Harley muttered sheepishly, taking the phone from Peter.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“And uh, Peter,” Harley bit his lip as he waited for Peter to turn back to face him again.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for the - the other thing to.”

Peter gave him a soft smile. “Any time, Harley. I’m serious if you ever need to get something off your chest or something. I’m here. No judgments, no questions asked.”

“Uh, you too,” Harley replied. Peter shot him one last close-lipped smile before ducking out of the room. Harley’s smile stayed frozen on his face for a second longer before turning his attention back to his phone and looking up Abby’s name in his contact list.

He pressed her Caller-ID. “Hey Abs, can we talk?”

* * *

A/N:

Ahhhhh! What's up, Kiddos? It's been a while since my last update and I'm really sorry. I've just been struggling to find inspiration to write and I'm kinda already half-asleep right now so forgive me for any writing errors or typos. Anyway, hope you like the new addition! See y'all soon! (Hopefully)

Love All,

Your Favorite Author

P.S. Please let me know if you think I'm doing the characters justice or not. I feel like I am but then again I'm still worried that I'm not being true to their canon personality. Tell me what you think in the comment section below. It would be greatly appreciated to hear what you have to say and get your feedback! Toodles!


	8. Chapter 8 - Heart-to-Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow, I - no excuse, literally none. I don’t know why it took me so long to update. I am just a non-functioning disaster all the way around. No lie. Anyway, to be honest, it was your comments that got me to finally finish this chapter so this one is for you guys! You really carry this story and I’m so happy to have you all here! Hope you like it!
> 
> Summary: Peter’s starting to feel a little different about Harley. He just doesn’t want to admit it yet. Also, more Pepper because she rocks and because Peter needs to hear some words of wisdom from her right now, am I right? The answer is yes, I am.

Peter couldn’t stop staring. He tried to focus on his paper. He was supposed to be writing an English essay right now but his eyes kept drifting, traveling over to the one person he couldn’t get out of his head. Harley, completely oblivious to Peter’s undivided attention, was scratching violently on his paper. Though he was directly diagonal to him, Peter still had a hard time making out the words on Harley’s paper. It didn’t even really look like words, just a bunch of jagged lines connecting in odd places.

Peter’s eyes traveled up to Harley’s face where his eyebrows were drawn so tightly that it almost looked as though they were merging together. Harley’s nose was scrunched up as well, his expression was pensive with a hint of childish annoyance as if the page had offended him somehow. That would definitely explain the harsh scribbling.

“Quit smiling, Loverboy,” MJ whispered from Peter’s right, “You’re starting to look like a creep, oh wait… too late.”

Peter sent her a hard glare. His eyes returned to his paper, angered by MJ and angered by his tortuous eyes that even bothered to linger on Harley in the first place. Sure, the two of them had gotten better recently, the last few weeks they had been civil to each other, even working together with Tony in the labs on some occasions - without any incidences or anything! The initial tension wasn’t gone though, at least, not that Peter could tell. He and Harley were definitely better but that didn’t mean they were suddenly best buds now. There was still something Peter couldn’t place that was bothering him and he had a sneaking suspicion that the feeling stemmed from the phone call he had overheard between Harley and that mysterious caller. He still couldn’t figure out what they had been discussing but his spider senses were telling him that it was important.

Maybe that’s why he had been so fixated on Harley lately? Maybe the superhero in him was just curious as to what he was hiding and if he was dangerous to the city? I mean, Peter didn’t think Harley was dangerous, not anymore, but even peaceful people can do harm.

The bell rang and Peter blinked down at his paper before heaving a disappointed sigh. English really was never his strong suit. Slowly, he got up, turning the paper into the basket at the front of the room before hoisting up his bookbag and making his way out into the hall. 

As he was leaving Peter couldn’t help but cast one last glance back into the room. Immediately his eyes fell to Harley who had finally put down his pencil and was beginning to flex his hand. Then, he stood up, cracking his fingers and giving a small yawn before reaching up to the ceiling and stretching. The motion made his shirt ride up and Peter’s eyes definitely shouldn’t have been lingering for so long. Peter’s eyes traveled back up to Harley’s face, his blood freezing in his veins as he realized a pair of dark blue eyes were staring back at him now. Harley seemed to be frozen as well, his gaze not leaving Peter’s. Peter wished more than anything that he didn’t have superhearing right now because he couldn’t even register anything other than the awful sound of his heart pumping heavily in his ears.

Something bumped into Peter’s shoulder, driving him out of the classroom’s doorway and into the hall. “Watch it, Penis Parker.”

Peter scowled as Flash began to cackle all the way down the hall.

“Ignore him,” MJ said, her eyes drilling into the back of Flash’s head.

“Yeah, he’s just a jerk,” Ned agreed, coming up from Peter’s other side, “C’mon let’s go. We’re gonna be late for lunch.”

Peter gave both his friends a grateful smile and the trio made their way to the cafeteria. They quickly found their usual table and sat down, Ned and MJ sitting across from Peter. 

“So Peter, what did you think of the English essay?”

“It-It was fine,” Peter stammered, “I just don’t understand why we still have to take English class. I mean - we’re in a stem school. What’s the point? It’s not like I’m gonna have an interview one day and the person is gonna be like, “So, Son, what are your thoughts about the use of anaphora as a rhetoric device in Martin Luther King’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech?” I mean, c’mon! No one is ever gonna say that!”

Ned laughed.

“That’s not the point,” MJ argued, a small frown creasing the corner of her lips, “It’s about the learning you can take away from it.”

“Maybe.” Peter shrugged. “I just don’t see the practicality in it.”

“Hey, guys, look!” Both MJ and Peter turned to glare at Ned but his eyes were already focused on something else.

Peter’s eyes followed Ned’s. Suddenly, his blood was rushing to his ears again as Harley came striding into the cafeteria.

“What’s he doing here?” Peter muttered, “He’s never come to lunch before.”

“Look at him often, Parker?” MJ smirked, and Peter sent her an unimpressed look over his shoulder.

“Yeah, but who’s he with?”

Peter turned back to face Harley, noticing a short blonde at his side, talking animately and using her hands to make wide gestures that quickly sent Harley into a fit of laughter. Peter frowned. “I - uh - I don’t know. MJ?”

“What?”

“Do you know that girl?”

MJ went quiet for a moment. “I think we were partners in chemistry once but I was a little preoccupied,” She smirked, “That was the week I read Anna Karenina for the first time.”

“Oh, okay,” Ned said slowly, “Do you remember her name?”

“Uh, Laura?”

“Forget it, guys,” Peter huffed, “What’s it matter to us anyway? When did we become a group of gossipers?”

“Sorry, Peter, I just thought it was kinda weird.”

“Weird and none of our business,” Peter said pointedly.

“Okay, okay!” Ned said, raising up his hands in surrender, “So, MJ, what did you think of the English essay?”

As MJ launched into one of her rare but long-winded rants about literary analysis Peter felt himself growing increasingly disinterested. His eyes, like they tended to do when he lost focus, began to wander around the room.

There were Flash and his band of loser friends talking loudly and confidently over one another. Several tables away, because no one really liked sitting too close to Flash and his table, sat a lot of the other kids on Peter’s academic decathlon team, including Ned’s girlfriend Betty. Adjacent to their table was a couple of kids from the Soccer and Basketball team, all of them huddled together - and from what Peter could hear - quietly yet vehemently discussing their favorite and least favorite Barbie Movies. Apparently, everyone seemed to agree that the old ones were much better than the new ones, not that Peter would have any knowledge about that.

Then, Peter’s eyes fell on the one table he was trying to avoid looking at. Harley’s table. He was sitting with - what was her name? Laila? - and a few other students. All of them were watching Harley intently.

Peter didn’t want to. He really shouldn’t have, and yet somehow without his consent, his ears unconsciously honed in on Harley’s voice. It was terrifyingly easy to do. Pinpointing his voice amongst the sea of noise was as easy as spotting a red cow in a herd of black and white ones. As soon as Harley’s southern drawl filled his ears Peter felt the smile creeping onto his face.

“And then, after the lady blew up, her accomplice grabbed me from behind and dragged me outback. He had a gun and was threatening me and everything until boom!” The whole table jumped at Harley’s dramatic retelling, “I stuck the flash bomb right in his eyes. Well, not literally of course, but the man was so startled, rubbing his eyes and stuff that I was able to escape and Tony used his hand beam to blast the man’s face off!”

“Wow, that’s amazing!”

“I can’t believe you saved the Tony Stark!”

“Best week of my life,” Harley said fondly.

Peter hid a snicker behind his hand. Who knew Harley could be such a dork? Just the way he told his story, the rambling, the childlike glee, the enthusiastic nature, all of it was something Peter hadn’t really seen from Harley before. It was kinda cute.

Wait, what? No. That wasn’t right. Peter hadn’t meant it like that.

“Peter, you good?” Peter looked up to see Ned looking at him funny.

“Oh yeah,” Peter gave him a weak smile, “Fine, just fine.”

That afternoon Peter’s heart wasn’t really in it during his patrol. He only managed to swing through half of the city, finding nothing, before heading back to Stark Tower. Once he stripped out of his suit and changed back into his day clothes Peter made his way down to the labs. Halfway there though, his stomach rumbled. Taking a detour, Peter made his way to one of the Tower’s many vending machines. He was just going through his options when he heard the click of heels coming down the hall towards him.

“Peter!” Pepper exclaimed, a pleasantly surprised smile gracing her features, “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“Yeah,” Peter said sheepishly, pulling down on the cuffs of his sweater. “I wasn’t really supposed to? But - uh - I already finished my homework and the city didn’t really need me so I just thought I’d stop by? You know, see how things were doing? Um, speaking of, do you know where Mr. Stark is? I was kinda hoping to talk to him.”

Pepper sent him a knowing smile. “He’s in a meeting right now but he should be getting done soon enough. Would you like to come up to my office and wait for him together?”

Peter nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Potts. I would like that.”

“Alright, come on,” Peter laughed, gesturing for him to follow her.

“Oh, actually I was just about to get a snack from the vending machine. I’m kinda hungry?” Peter told her sheepishly.

“And I have a mini-fridge in my office,” Pepper replied, not having to tell him twice as he eagerly followed her up to the top office floor of the tower, just a level below the penthouse floor.

As soon as they got to Pepper’s office she walked over to the mini-fridge. She opened the door and left it open as she walked over to her desk and sat down. When Peter remained rooted in the doorway she let out a quiet chuckle, gesturing back to the open fridge. “I didn’t open that for me, Peter.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Peter dashed over to the fridge, pulling out a whole supply of food, “Thank you, Mrs. Potts.”

Pepper nodded, returning back to her work. 

After Peter had collected enough food to fill up two arms full he made his way over to Pepper’s desk, plopping down in the chair across from her. He laid out his treasure trove in his lap as he picked up a banana from the pile and began to eat it happily. Pepper looked up at him before looking down again, trying to hide her fond smile.

“Enjoying the food?” She asked him though her attention was directed to the papers sitting in front of her. She clicked her pen, jotting down a quick note in the margins.

“What?” Peter said through a mouthful of banana.

“Don’t talk when your mouth is full,” Pepper reprimanded instinctively.

Peter swallowed, at least having the decency to look a little embarrassed. A trait that Tony did not have much to Pepper’s never-ending chagrin. 

“So, Peter,” Pepper spoke up again after several minutes of silence. She clicked the pen off and set it down as she leaned on her elbows and gave him her undivided attention. “What’s new with you? Anything fun and exciting going on at school, or with your… extracurricular.”

Peter’s eyes furrowed. “Not really. I mean school is school, and my debate team is doing well I guess. I mean - MJ has been grilling us a little harder than usual but I think that’s just-”

“No, that’s not -” Peter could see Pepper resisting the urge to face-palm at that moment, “I meant your other extracurricular.”

“Oh,” Peter said, “Oh yeah, that’s good, everything’s good.”

“Yeah, you haven’t heard anything more on that new growing tech syndicate? The ones that we're behind that City Hall Banquet a couple of weeks back?

Peter frowned. “No, actually. To be honest, I almost forgot about that.”

Pepper gave him a wary look. “Hmm, maybe I’ll have Tony look into that. Maybe make some connections with some people he knows to try and get more information. From what you told me before it doesn’t seem like these people are just going to vanish after one failed job. They’ll be back.”

“Yeah,” Peter said glumly, “They always come back, don’t they?”

At that, Pepper frowned, shooting Peter a concerned look. “Are you okay, Hun? You seem a little out of it.”

Peter sighed, setting down his second box of raisins. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Sure what’s nothing?”

“It’s just with Harley-”

“What happened? I thought you two were starting to get along?”

“We - we are,” Peter said, he gave another long sigh, “I don’t know how to explain this without it coming out wrong.”

“Peter,” Pepper said firmly.

“Right, right, okay,” Peter jumped, “Here it is.”

Pepper folded her hands in her lap as she leaned back and watched him expectantly. The pose only seemed to make Peter even more nervous.

“Alright, okay,” Peter stuttered, “The thing is Harley and I didn’t exactly have a great first meeting. We kind of ran into each other in the hallway at our school and he kicked my notebook and I got mad and he got mad and then we were both mad. Then, I found out he was old friends with Mr. Stark and that was kinda weird. Then, I said something pretty mean things to him which I know was wrong especially since I only said those things because I was jealous of him. Anyway, MJ told me I should just apologize to him and I wanted to but then everything happened with the fire and he was gone for two weeks so I didn’t really get the chance to talk to him at all. The day he came back though I ran into him in the labs. It wasn’t good. He freaked out so I freaked out and then I just made things worse so I had to apologize for that and for the time before which was super awkward but then I think he forgave me because he seemed chill afterward. Also, we’ve been hanging out a lot more just around the tower and with Tony and stuff, and did you know he’s actually really smart? Like insanely smart. And - And, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before but we actually have a lot in common. I know that doesn’t automatically make us friends but I feel like it’s a start, right? I mean I want to like him, but a part of me still feels like I can’t. I just - I still feel like he’s my replacement or something, you know?”

Pepper’s eyes got wider and wider as Peter went through his monologue. He was talking rapidly and his hands were flying which Pepper was sure he thought was helpful but really wasn’t. Not to mention that it was a lot to process. By the end of it, Pepper felt like she had just been dunked in a hot bath before being thrown into a frozen lake. Needless to say, it was a very jarring experience.

Pepper blinked. “Well, I - hmm - that is certainly a lot to process.”

“Right, sorry,” Peter grimaced, “Aunt May always says I talk too fast.”

Pepper smiled. “It’s okay. Tony does the same thing. Now let’s try to break this down, shall we?”

Peter nodded.

“Okay, so you said you and Harley got off on the wrong foot, right?”

Again, another nod from Peter.

“Alright, well, how is your notebook doing now?”

“Oh, um, fine I guess?” Peter said, “I don’t - I don’t really use it much? It kinda just sits in my desk back at the apartment.”

“So it wasn’t a complete travesty that Harley kicked it?” Peter shook his head. “Good, moving on. You said you said some things to him that were maybe not okay… twice, but then you apologized. That seems like progress, right?”

Peter shrugged. “I guess.”

“As for the stuff you said about being jealous and feeling weird, I cannot tell you what Tony thinks,” Peter deflated, “But, I do know what I think and I think you are amazing, Peter. You have this light inside of you; it’s infectious; it touches people and that’s a real gift. Don’t take it for granted.”

Peter swallowed thickly, trying not to tear up at her words.

“I also know that Tony doesn’t spend his time with just anyone. He may be able to throw money at problems and sign checks to show that he cares but that isn’t really caring, that’s him putting on a face. For the things he really, truly cares about, Tony dedicates his time. Do you know how often he talks about you? How often I find him adding designs to your suit to protect you? Or how about how much time he takes off so that he can sit down in the lab and tinker with you, talk with you, just be near you! Tony may know Harley longer but that doesn’t mean the relationship he has with you ceases to matter. You are both important people in his life. Once you can figure out how to accept that I think you’ll find that getting along with Harley is easier than you think.”

Peter sat there for a moment in silence, absorbing her words. He had never really thought about it like that. He had never really noticed how much Tony and Pepper actually cared for him. He knew how Aunt May loved him and Ned and maybe even MJ. He just never stopped to consider that maybe Tony and Pepper loved him in their own ways too. It made his chest feel lighter than it had in weeks and he could feel a sudden warmth spreading throughout his body.

Suddenly, the door to Pepper’s office opened as Tony peaked his head in the doorway. “Ah, there you are! Friday said you were in here!”

“You were looking for me?” Pepper asked.

“Uh, no, but I do love you so so much,” Tony joked before turning his attention to Peter, “I was actually looking for the kid.”

“Me?” Peter said with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” Tony shrugged, “I got some free time right now, just thought we could start working on those new plans we talked about the other day.”

“Really?” Peter exclaimed, suddenly sitting up in his chair, “Y-Yeah, that would be great!”

“Well, come on then,” Tony left again, the door shutting with a click behind him. Peter rushed out of his seat to follow him before stopping at the door and casting a quick glance back at Pepper. She was wearing a wide ‘I told you so’ smirk, but she also looked genuinely happy for Peter, glad to see him in high spirits again.

“Thank you,” Peter said sincerely before running out to go join Tony in the labs.

* * *

A/N:

What's up Kiddos? Back at it again with the pinning and angst! You know you love it. Also, I heart Pepper being a protective mother. Peter is giving me such soft vibes right now, what about you guys? Peter's starting to grow and change, opening himself up to the possibility of a friendship with Harley. Can he do it or will their lives - past and present - get in the way? 

Tune in to find out more! Catch you next time Folks! Ta-Ta ;)


	9. Chapter 9 - Naps Are Vital to Teenage Survival!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has already help Harley before, both in and out of costume. Now, it’s time for Harley to return the favor. AKA - major fluff and bonding time!!!!

Harley was starting to resent Laura. Every time he thought that people were starting to forget about the fire fiasco, and in consequence, his “Meet-Cute” - her words not his - with Spiderman, the darned girl had to go and bring it up again, insighting a whole other batch of rumors about his supposed relationship with the famous Web-Slinger.

If Harley didn’t find the notion so ridiculous to the point of amusing, he figured he would have shot Laura with his potato gun a long time ago.

Still, for the girl’s many,  _ many  _ faults, she was still one of Harley’s best friends. She shared his witty humor and love for engineering. She was also a great listener. Laura was one of the few people who could stand to hear Harley’s rants about the practically - or lack thereof - of the Star Wars movies.

“It just isn’t realistic, Laur!” Harley kept telling her.

“Whatever you say, Harley,” Laura would reply, ruffling his hair which always ticked Harley off. He would swat her hand away and shoot her a glare. No matter how hard he glared at her though, she never stopped doing it.

Right now, Harley was trying to explain to Laura about the physics behind one of his latest prototypes for a self-inflating balloon - because let’s be honest, no one likes blowing up balloons. They give you headaches - when suddenly the two heard a commotion coming from further down the hall.

“What’s going on?” Harley wondered aloud. He looked over at Laura but she just shrugged. Curious, the two walked over to the crowd that had begun to gather in the middle of the hall. Harley, being the bigger of the two, pushed through the crowd to the front. His eyes widened in surprise as he found what was at the center.

It was Eugene Tompson and what looked to be a little freshman, though that part wasn’t really all that surprising. What was surprising, however, was the boy standing in between them. It was Peter Parker.

“C’mon, Flash, just leave him alone,” Peter said tiredly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Why don’t you just get out of my way, Penis. No one wants you here anyway.”

Harley smirked as he watched Peter struggle to hold back an eye roll. “Can we please not do this today?”

That’s when Harley started to notice the dark circles bruising the skin under Peter’s eyes. Peter kept shifting uncomfortably as well, almost as if he was trying to keep his legs from falling asleep. Harley was suddenly overcome with the urge to pick the boy up and carry him to bed. He certainly seemed like he could use the rest.

“Move along then if you don’t want to be a part of this, Penis. No one asked you to step in and play hero,” Eugene sniped back.

“I’m not,” Peter frowned, “I’m not trying to play anything. I just want you to stop tormenting people. It’s not cool, man.”

  
“Right, because this isn’t about the attention at all,” Eugene said mockingly, “Look, we get it, Penis, you’re an orphan. You need all the love you can get, but do us all a favor and look for it elsewhere. You’re not wanted here.”

Peter sucked in a breath, as did much of the students crowded around them. Harley, however, stopped breathing altogether. That hit an emotion in his chest he’d rather not feel, and his heart immediately went out to Peter. He didn’t deserve to hear that. No one did.

All of the sudden, MJ came tearing through the crowd. It was clear by the look of murder on her face that she had heard what Eugene had just said.

“Laura, hold her back,” Harley muttered quickly, already rushing to Peter’s side. 

Laura shot him a confused look.

“Do it!” He hissed. Laura must have heard or seen the desperation Harley was harboring because she quickly rushed across the circle, intercepting MJ before she could attack Eugene.

“What are you doing?” MJ shouted as Laura caught her arm right before it made contact with Eugene’s face. Eugene, having not noticed the angry woman before this, scrambled back with fright, his face going pale.

Laura started talking quietly in MJ’s ear as she continued to drag her down the hall and out of sight.

Harley wasn’t paying attention to this though, he was solely focused on Peter who had yet to move since Eugene’s snide comment. Even his vision was frozen, staring into empty space just past Harley’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Harley said softly, placing a hand on Peter’s arm. Peter jolted, his eyes blowing wide before they zeroed in on Harley standing in front of him. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“H-Harley?” Peter stuttered.

“Yeah,” Harley smiled, tugging gently on Peter’s arm, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Peter nodded numbly, allowing for Harley to drag him through the crowd and towards the front entrance of the school. Harley thanked god it was already the end of the school day. He would have hated for Peter to have to go through any more classes after this. 

They were able to make it to the front entrance with little interference. Not even Peter’s best friend, Ned, had approached them, though that was probably Harley’s fault. He had been glaring at everyone and anyone who got within five feet of Peter. The two didn’t say a word until Happy pulled up to pick them up. Peter usually didn’t take the car with Harley, showing up at Stark Tower a few hours later most days, but Harley refused to let the boy out of his sight.

“Peter, you hitching a ride with us today?” Harley shot Happy a glare through the rear-view mirror. He hadn’t meant to, honestly. It had just come out. “Whoa, what’re the icicles for, Keener? Tony didn’t tell you the marshmallow incident was my fault, did he because I swear I had nothing to do with it. I’m just the driver.”

“No,” Harley muttered before adding a quiet, “Sorry.”

The rest of the ride was silent. Harley couldn’t help but sneak looks at Peter every so often. He didn’t look good - physically or mentally.

When they finally reached Stark Tower Harley had never been so glad to see the big, ugly skyscraper. As soon as Happy pulled to a stop, both boys jumped out of the car. Peter was quick to rush into the building, not even sparing Harley a glance. Harley had to run to keep up with him. He almost missed the elevator, jumping in just before the doors closed. Peter sighed, and Harley had to refrain from rolling his eyes. He wasn’t that bad to be around, was he? This wasn’t about him right now though. He knew not to take Peter’s attitude personally. He was just in a rough space. That was something Harley could understand very well.

Peter reached out to press a floor number when Harley caught his wrist.

“What?” Peter snapped.

Harley gently eased his hand away from the button pad and pressed the button himself.

“That’s not the floor I’m going to, Keener.”

Keener? Harley tried not to be too upset by that. Who cared what Peter called him? It’s not like it mattered to him, right? “Look, you can’t be in the labs right now. You’re practically falling over!”

“Who said I was going to the labs?”

Harley gave him a look. “Don’t try and get out of this, Peter. You need to rest. When’s the last time you actually slept?”

“I-”

“And before you say anything I mean more than four hours of sleep in a row.”

Peter shut his mouth.

“Exactly.”

Finally, the elevator doors dinged open.

“The penthouse floor,” Friday announced, “Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark that you are here?”

“No!” Peter said quickly.

“Uh, not yet,” Harley added politely, “Thanks, Fri.”

“Of course, Harley, happy to help. I would also like to add that Peter has a room reserved on this floor if he would like to lie down as you suggested.”

Harley looked over at Peter questioningly to which the other boy just firmly shook his head. “I-I don’t like that room. It’s too… bland. I don’t think I would be able to sleep anyway.”

“Okay,” Harley shrugged before dragging Peter down the hall.

“Wait, where are we going? Hey, come on, let go!” Peter struggled against Harley’s grip but it could not be swayed. After a moment of struggling Peter finally gave in, letting Harley pull him the rest of the way. Harley didn’t let go until they were stopped in front of a plain white door. 

“What’s this room,” Peter asked. He knew most of the rooms in Stark Tower so he was surprised to find that he did remember ever going in this one or even knowing what it was for.

Harley looked a little less confident now as he avoided Peter’s gaze. “It’s - uh - my room.”

  
He didn’t give Peter a chance to respond as he opened the door and walked inside. Walking over to his nightstand, Harley flicked on the lamplight and the room immediately lit up golden. The color contrasted nicely with his pale blue walls. The room seemed cramped for space and it was easy to tell that room had been lived in. Harley had a desk in the corner of the room for when he was doing homework or some of his smaller projects that didn’t require much equipment. He also had a small bookshelf lining the far wall. It was mostly just science journals and self-help books - sue him, it was a guilty pleasure - but there were also a lot of fantasy and science fiction novels too.

“You-” Harley turned around curiously. Peter was standing in the doorway with his mouth agape as he pointed to one of the posters on Harley’s wall, “You’re a Trekkie!”

Harley snorted. He couldn’t help it. Peter seemed both equal bits of outraged and horrified, neither of which emotion seemed to fit the situation. He had never seen someone react so negatively to a picture of William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Star Wars is better,” Peter blurted out.

“Ah,” Harley said, nodding as he made his way back over to where Peter was still standing. He sat down on the edge of his bed, wearing a serious look on his face. “How unfortunate for you.”

“What?”

“I said how unfortunate. You clearly have an inferior intellect if you truly believe that Star Wars is better than Star Trek.”

“Because it is!” Peter shouted.

Quite against his will, Harley found himself smiling. “And how did you ever reach that conclusion?”

“Uh how about lightsabers, Jedi, the force-”

“All of those are so unrealistic!”

“Yeah, well Star Trek isn’t much better! The science behind their teleporters would never work,” Peter argued back, “And the original series had the worst sound effects!”

“That’s because it’s old!”

“Star Wars is old too.”

“The first movie was also made eleven years after the Star Trek original series first debuted. At least Star Trek didn’t have god awful characters.”

“Like who?” Peter huffed, throwing his arms up in exasperation as if he couldn’t fathom the words coming out of Harley’s mouth.

“Um, Jar-Jar.”

Peter stayed silent for a moment. “Okay, fair point… but literally every other character in the franchise-”

“Or Darth Vader!”

“Darth Vader?” Peter shouted incredulously, “How could you not like Darth Vader?”

“Are you kidding me? Anakin was so creepy!” Harley shot back. Peter had started pacing the room now, Harley’s eyes following him from where he still sat on the bed. “Also, is no one going to mention the age gap between him and Padme? He was a literal child when he first met her! That’s just weird!”

“They didn’t get together until he was much older though!”

“Still weird,” Harley sang, “And like the clones or whatever? What’s up with their armor? It’s so useless it might as well be made of plastic for all the good it does!”

This time Peter didn’t get angry by Harley’s comment. He was too busy trying to hide his smile behind his hand.

“Come on, you know it’s true,” Harley teased, smirking at Peter.

Peter just rolled his eyes. “Whatever, I still firmly believe that Star Wars is one of the greatest cinematic masterpieces of all time.”

“Fine. Keep your wrong opinions.”

“Hey!” Peter huffed, walking up to Harley and kicking his foot. It wasn’t meant to be aggressive. It was more of a playful nudge if anything. Harley pretended not to enjoy the touch.

“What - What was that for?” Harley cried indignantly, a tad too dramatic which just made Peter laugh.

“You deserved that!” Peter insisted. He was wearing a wide smile now, a tired smile but one nonetheless. At least he seemed alive again and that made Harley feel accomplished. He had done that. He had made Peter laugh, had made him smile.

“What?” Peter asked, his smile dropping off a little as he caught Harley's soft grin.

“Nothing,” Harley shook his head. The two fell into a long silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable though, in fact, it was rather nice. It made Harley feel more connected to Peter as if just existing near him was enough to develop a bond.

After a long while of just standing in the middle of Harley's bedroom, Peter shifted slightly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Well, I should probably-”

“Stay.”

Harley didn’t know what had possessed him to say such a thing. It was as if the words had struggled out of his mouth against his will. He wanted to take it back, say that he hadn’t meant it, maybe just laugh it off. Peter would probably have accepted it, but Harley couldn’t do that. 

It was like a memory resurfacing. 

Harley was taken back to his childhood, to when he had longed for a warm home and somebody to lean on. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a house, he did, but it was never homely, they couldn’t afford much furniture. It was quite… bland, much like the way Peter had described his room at Stark Tower. It didn’t mean that it wasn’t nice, it just wasn’t home. As for a person to lean on, who could he have gone to? He had no father. Not in his books he didn’t. His mother, well, she did her best, but sometimes her best meant extra shifts, sometimes it meant she couldn’t be there when he needed her. Harley understood this. He couldn’t blame her for his loneliness. As he said, she did the best she could with what they had. All that left him with was his little sister, Abby. He could never have leaned on her. She was already leaning on him, and it couldn’t go both ways. She depended on him to stay strong. It might not have been fair but Harley was like a parent to her, and he knew the unspoken rule of any parent. Never let your children see you break. It makes them lose hope. Harley never wanted that for Abby. He wanted her to be better, better than who he wasn’t really sure. His father? That was a given. His mother? Maybe. Himself? Absolutely. The last thing Harley wanted was his sister to end up like him. He was too incomplete in the way that he lost his childhood. He wanted Abby to be whole.

He wished the same for Peter too which is probably why the word stay came out of his mouth. It wasn’t a command or even a request. It was an invitation. Peter seemed to understand this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” He fumbled through his words.

“You were there for me,” Harley said quietly. He almost doesn’t bring it up, he almost doesn’t say anything because saying something could lead Peter to remember that Harley never really explained himself for that day. The last thing Harley wants to do is talk about his past. Sill, he mentioned it, as casually as he could, because he knew it would convince Peter. He knew it would convince him to stay and let Harley help. Harley felt like he owed him that much. And if there was a small part of Harley that  _ wanted  _ to do this, that  _ wanted _ to be the one to make Peter feel better - well, Harley just decided to ignore that part of himself for now. Whatever it meant.

Harley watched Peter’s face soften. “Yeah, but-”

“All I’m offering is my sherpa bean bag chair to sleep on, Peter. There’s no need to get all shy about it,” Harley rolled his eyes. He was trying to diffuse the tension, trying to write off the gesture as if it meant nothing to him. It was a habit Harley had been trying to break since he moved to NYC. He had to constantly remind himself that he had friends here, people who actually cared about him. He was allowed to care. 

Wait, was that what this was? Did he care about Peter? Harley stared up at the boy who was still nervously chewing on his lip. He looked so hesitant yet it didn’t look like he wanted to leave either. Harley guessed this whole letting people in thing was new for both of them. He also guessed - yeah - he did care about Peter. Things were still a little strange between them but it was a start. It was getting better now that they could talk without venom dripping from their every word. Progress, that’s what it was. It was progress.

“Okay,” Peter said finally. He walked over to the comfortable squish chair sitting in the corner of Harley’s room and slowly sank into it. He tried to hide how much he enjoyed the feeling but Harley noticed the way his eyes fluttered shut for a moment and the way his body seemed to melt as if there was a sudden release of pressure.

Harley’s mouth ticked as Peter met his eyes again. They were shining with an emotion Harley couldn’t really name. Gratitude? Solidarity? Acceptance? Whatever it was sent an unfamiliar jolt down Harley’s spine and this time the feeling was welcome and almost pleasant. Harley turned away. His eyes seemed to dance around the room for a moment before settling on his bookshelf. Crawling across his bed, Harley reached out as far as his arm could go and plucked a book from the shelf. Bringing his body back to center Harley settle back against the pillows, all too aware of Peter’s eyes on him. They held a certain heat that Harley could feel even at a distance. It made his whole body turn warm but Harley tried to ignore this. He opened up the book. It was one he had already read but that was okay. Harley tended to zone out while he was reading so whatever he missed when he re-read the book his memory could just fill in for him.

After Harley flipped the book to page seven a few minutes later, he could still feel Peter watching him. He sighed. Not looking up from his book, he said, “You know in order to fall asleep you actually have to close your eyes, Peter.”

Harley didn’t have to look to know Peter was frowning. “But I’m not - I’m not tired.”

He said this through a yawn of course. Harley finally looked up, shooting him an unimpressed look. His expression quickly faltered, however, as he saw Peter curled up in a fetal position, his legs pulled up and his arms tucked tightly into his chest. He looked like an adorable little kitten, and Harley had to physically restrain himself from doing something embarrassing like cooing at him. Now, that would be awkward.

Instead, Harley just cleared his throat as he set his book aside and stood up from his bed. Making his way over to his closet, Harley pulled out a thick, fuzzy blanket, chucking it in Peter’s direction. It hit him squarely in the face and Peter let out a surprised ‘oof’ sound.

“Rude,” Peter muttered.

Harley rolled his eyes climbing back into bed and picking his book back up again. “Just put it on. The weight should help you go to sleep faster.”

“Oh,” Peter remarked, unfolding the blanket and draping it over himself. He snuggled in closer to the bean bag until all that was left to be seen of him was his head, peeking out from underneath the covers. Harley silently cursed himself. The blanket had been a bad idea. Now Peter looked even cuter. Er - he meant objectively, of course. No, Harley personally didn’t think Peter Parker was cute. No, not at all.

Harley averted his gaze again.  _ Focus on the page in front of you, ignore the eyes - the stupid, puppy eyes. Just focus on reading your book. _ That was Harley’s internal monologue.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of waiting, Harley looked up to find Peter fast asleep in his chair. His mouth was parted ever so slightly and his one cheek was squished into the chair. Harley was pretty sure he was drooling a little too.

Harley chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly as he went back to reading. A short time later though Harley found himself drifting off. He couldn’t remember the last time his eyelids had felt this heavy. Just one more chapter, he had promised himself, then I’ll get up and do something.

Still, the warm glow of his lamp light - his shades were pulled all the way down so it was impossible to tell it was still early afternoon - the soft pull of his pillows beneath his head, the warm feeling settled comfortably in his chest, the sight of Peter sleeping in his chair just a couple of feet away. All of it felt too comfortable for Harley to resist.

He never did finish his next chapter.

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos? Another chapter! You're welcome. Also, this one has lots of fluffy fluff which I'm not sure I'm too good at since all I seem to write is dramatic, sad scenes but I think this turned out okay. Also, I know I haven't written about their alter egos too much yet but I want to develop a good baseline with Harley and Peter first before I add in their superheroes just because I think it's important to see them as people first and see their journey as human beings rather than just "their masks", ya know? There will obviously more bonding scenes in the future but I also think the next couple of chapters are going to have a lot more drama and action in them, maybe even focus on Harley and Peter's relationships with other characters. Who knows? I haven't really thought about the specifics yet.

Oops! : - )

Well, that's it for today! I hope you all enjoyed it! Please, please, please comment on it and tell me what you think. I love talking with you all! Alright, now I'm done. See you all next time!

Love all, 

Your Favorite Author

P.S. In case you all were wondering. Yes, I'm a huge Star Trek fan. Yes, I prefer it over Star Wars. Sorry... except I'm really not.


	10. Chapter 10 - Not an Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and his good pal, Iron Lad, have some crime to stop. They think it’s just a routine robbery. These boys are not prepared for what happens next.

“How are you feeling?”

Like Shit. Or at least that’s how Peter would have answered if MJ had asked him that question yesterday. Peter didn’t say that today. Instead, he gave a quiet ‘I’m good’, and was surprised to find that he meant it.

“That’s okay, Peter, I under - wait, what? Did you just say you’re good?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded.

“Oh.” MJ was stumped by this answer. She probably had come with a whole speech to tell Peter, something along the lines of an apology or even a sympathetic ‘there, there’. Peter didn’t need to hear it though. He felt fine. He felt great actually.

It was at that moment that Peter looked up and saw Harley Keener waltz into the cafeteria. The blonde girl - Laura, her name was Laura - at his side. She had been a big help yesterday. Peter didn’t know what MJ would have done to Flash if Laura hadn’t been there. He didn’t think he wanted to know either. MJ was scary even on her good days. Apparently, Laura had driven MJ home yesterday and had ended up staying over for a couple of hours too. MJ had texted him about it last night after he had woken up from his nap.

That brought Peter’s attention back to Harley. He hadn’t gotten the chance to thank Harley for last night. As much as he hated to admit it, Harley was the whole reason he wasn’t feeling like shit in the first place. Harley had made him take a nap! That was a feat not even Aunt May could accomplish. When Peter had woken up after that, it was already eight o’clock at night. Harley was just waking up around that time too. It seemed both of them had needed the rest. Afterwards, the two had decided to go down to the labs together to work since they missed out on their lab time earlier. Tony had already been in the labs when they arrived and hadn’t been able to help himself as he snuck in various jibes about ‘my two sleeping beauty boys’ as the three of them worked on their own projects side by side. Peter had ended up leaving Stark Tower around ten o’clock, doing a quick patrol around the city in his suit before calling it a night. When he finally crashed again, the moon was starting to descend, meaning that he only got a couple of more hours of sleep on top of his nap. That was more than plenty for Peter though, more than he usually got anyway.

Harley’s eyes danced around the cafeteria for a moment as he and Laura made their way to their usual table. Peter was starting to wonder what he was searching for until Harley’s eyes stop him. Harley had been looking for him? Peter felt himself stupidly holding his breath as his eyes stayed locked onto Harley’s. Then, slowly, a warm smile began to creep over Harley’s face. He lifted his head towards Peter in a sort of acknowledging nod. Peter waved back shyly. It wasn’t until someone stepped between Peter’s line of sight that their eyes finally disconnected. Peter turned back around in his seat. He froze as he saw the odd, calculating look on MJ’s face.

“What was that?” She questioned.

“What was what?”

“That thing,” MJ said, gesturing vaguely with the carrot in her hand, “With Harley.”

“There’s no thing with Harley,” Peter objected. He tried to hold back a wince. He had said that too quickly. Now, MJ was going to think there was a thing - which there wasn’t. Thankfully, Peter was saved from any further interrogation as Ned rushed over to them, plopping down in the seat next to Peter.

“Sorry I’m a little late, guys,” Ned huffed, “Was taking a Calculus test.”

“How’d it go,” Peter asked curiously, happy to divert the attention away from him.

“Fine,” Ned shrugged, “Except I think I got number nine wrong because when I was turning mine in the person before me had a different answer.”

“Maybe they just rounded wrong or something?” 

“Doubtful,” MJ snorted.

Ned grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t think so. They had -2.675 as their answer.”

“And what did you have?”

“4,120?”

“Yeah, I would say that’s a little bit different,” MJ sniped.

Peter was about to tell her how unhelpful her comments were when he felt an itch crawl up his neck. It was his Spider senses. Something was wrong. Peter scanned the room, searching for any signs of trouble but everyone was still busy happily chatting with one another. He found his eyes falling on Harley’s lunch table, except Harley wasn’t there. 

Who cares, Peter, He tried to tell himself, Harley probably just went to the bathroom or something. He’s not the one who is in danger.

But if it wasn’t Harley, who was?

Peter strained his ears, trying to listen to the various conversations happening at once. Most of them were trivial things - school grades, teachers they all hated, what movies they were going to see that weekend - that is until Peter heard Flash’s voice breaking through the noise, loud and obnoxious as ever. “Hey! Look, you guys! It’s Iron Lad!”

Peter whipped around in his seat but Iron Lad was not in the school cafeteria. No, he was on Flash’s phone, the one he was showing to his lunch table.

“It looks like - ooh! Iron Lad totally just owned that guy! Did you see that? He just-” Peter didn’t wait to listen in to the rest of what Flash was saying. He quickly excused himself from the table, spouting something about ‘bad food’ and ‘need a restroom’ before rushing off. It didn’t take him long to suit up and once he did Karen was quick to alert him that there was currently a stand-off between Iron Lad and multiple Hostiles on West 26th Street. Peter raced over there as fast as he could. 

Once he arrived on the scene he was relieved to find that Iron Lad was still relatively unharmed, shooting blasts at the men in black armor, helmets included, down on the street below. They seemed to be hiding behind some sort of barricade. Peter swung over, sticking to the building nearest him. “Karen, sync comms.”

“Pending,” Karen replied. Peter watched as Iron Lad glanced up and around for a moment before his eyes landed on Peter, “Request accepted. Syncing comms now.”

“I’m hurt,” Peter said to Iron Lad as soon as they were connected, “You started the fun without me.”

Iron Lad’s breathless chuckle vibrated through Peter’s internal speakers. “Yeah, and you’re late. I thought you wouldn’t show.”

Peter shrugged casually, or as casually as one can whilst gripping to the side of a skyscraper. “I had a feeling that your sorry ass needed my help. Turns out I was right. You sound tired already.”

“Am not,” Iron Lad huffed, diving out of the way just as another round of bullets shot towards him. “Damn, these guys are impossible to hit. I haven’t been able to get a good shot with the barricade in the way. Speaking of which, what kind of robbers set up a barricade before they rob a place?”

“Ones that were expecting us,” Peter guessed, “What are they trying to rob anyway?”

“Uh,” Iron Lad pointed to the building next to him, “I think it’s a meat quality production facility though my sources say that’s just a front. It’s actually a major government weapons manufacturer for the city, police-grade and stuff like that.”

Peter nodded in understanding. “Should we get in closer? We’ll probably have better luck at close range where they can’t hide.”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

The two dropped down onto the street below. Then, they charged the barricade, Peter flipping over it easily while Iron Lad used his thrusters to catapult himself over it. There were six, no seven, armed men on the other side, each brandishing their own weapon. 

Iron Lad moved left while Peter moved right. The two of them worked in tandem to take down the men one by one. They couldn’t shoot their guns now, not at this range. It was too much of a risk. So instead, the guns turned into beating sticks and battering rams as they fought back again Peter and Iron Lad.

Peter had just taken down two, going to attack another when the man’s helmet was knocked off. The man, as it turned out, was actually a woman. “Hey, Laddie, look! It’s a woman!”

“That nice,” Iron Lad grunted, a little preoccupied with the two men - correction: ‘masked robbers’ - he was fighting against.

“What? You don’t like hitting girls or something?” The woman jibed, spreading her arms out wide like an invitation.

“I don’t like hitting anyone,” Peter responded though he knew she couldn’t hear him. Then, he proceeded to punch her in the face, knocking her out cold. “But you’re a bad person and I can’t let you rob this place.”

“Spidey, a little help!”

Peter looked over at Iron Lad who was currently pinned against the ground, one of the robbers standing over top of him and keeping him pinned to the ground while another robber was using the butt of their gun to bash his helmet in. Peter quickly jumped into action. He leaped onto the shoulders of the one near Iron Lad’s head, leaning back into a backflip. The momentum of the movement sent the robber flying into the concrete barricade behind him. Peter wasted no time, tackling the other robber to the ground. They tried to throw him off but Peter’s strength easily bested their own. As Peter pinned down both of their arms he realized he had no more arms left to knock the person out. So he smashed his head into theirs. The person fell limp. Brutal but effective, even if Peter did start to feel a headache coming on.

Peter got to his feet. The familiar itch crawled up the back of his neck and he spun around just in time to catch the swing that had been aimed at the back of his head. “Nice try,” He muttered before he gripped the person’s arm and threw them into the air. Iron Lad quickly blasted off the ground, punching the person in the gut so that they slammed back down onto the hard pavement. Then, Iron Lad raised his arm, sending out a mid-ranged burst at the last robber. They staggered back but they didn’t go down. 

Strange, Peter thought. How could he have knocked the last robber out with a single headbutt and yet Iron Lad’s blaster only made this once stumble slightly. Unless…

“Laddie!” Peter called out to him as he jumped over the body of one of the fallen robber’s. He flung his webs out, capturing the last robber in a network of sticky string. They couldn’t move. “Aim for the head!”

Iron Lad nodded, flying forward, straight for the robber. He pulled his arm back before delivering the final blow. The final robber hit the pavement with a satisfying thunk. 

Iron Lad touched back down on the ground beside Peter. He held his hand out, palm up. Peter high-fived him as they examined their good work.

“That wasn’t too difficult,” Iron Lad said proudly. Peter could just picture his smirk under the helmet.

Before Peter could respond though, his communicator dinged.

“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen sounded. Peter didn’t even get a chance to decline or accept as Karen continued. “‘It’s me, answer your phone’ protocol initiated. Systems override. Call automatically accepted in 3...2…”

“Kid! Where are you?” Tony’s voice blared through his internal speakers.

“What do you mean?” Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion, “We just finished stopping a robbery. I thought you would have seen it on the news by now.”

“I think the news is a little preoccupied,” Tony stated tersely. There was a pause, followed by a string of curses and the sound of something breaking.

“Mr. Stark?”

“God! Son of a-” Tony was cursing again. He didn’t even seem to realize he was still on a call with Peter as he muttered to himself, “Gonna need to update Karen’s priority settings. Stupid AI. We got bigger fish to fry than your everyday robbery.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark, what’s wrong?”

“Just get your ass down to Stark Tower, Spiderman. Bring Iron Lad with you. We need to talk.”

The call ended with a short click.

Peter turned to Iron Lad. “You get all that?”

“Yeah,” Iron Lad nodded, starting his thrusters back up again, “We better hurry. That didn’t sound too good.”

Peter couldn’t help but agree with him. “Yeah, let’s tie these guys up. Karen, can you alert the authorities?”

“Two squad ars are already on their way for retrieval.”

“Good,” Peter said. He nodded to Iron Lad and the two took off in the direction of Stark Tower. 

As they got closer the first thing Peter noticed was the smoke. Then, he heard the screams and the sound of sirens.

He swung faster.

As soon as the whole of Stark Tower came into view Peter could see what had happened. Or at least the aftermath. It looked like a tornado had ripped through the front entrance of the tower. Better yet, a bomb. The glass siding on the first and second floors was laying in broken pieces all over the sidewalk and there were little fires sprouting up everywhere. Several people, we're stumbling out of the building, covered in smoke and soot. A lot of them were coughing and struggling to walk straight but thankfully there seemed to be enough medical officials on the scene to help them all.

Peter swung up to the Avenger’s level, the floor just above the penthouse level. It was where Peter trained a lot of the time as Spiderman and it’s where he always reported to after missions. It had a balcony which he and Iron Lad both landed on. Once they were inside the two superheroes were immediately greeted by a pissed-off Stark and a straight-faced Pepper Potts. Neither was a very good sign.

“What happened?” Iron Lad spoke first.

“What do you think?” Tony shouted, gesturing to the window, “Didn’t you see the chaos and destruction on your way in? They blew up my tower!”

“Tony,” Pepper placated, “Tony, this wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know.”

“I know that!”

“Then stop yelling at them.”

“I’m not-” Tony sighed, “I’m just - how could I let this happen? This is the second time in one month that I’ve put my employees - my people - in danger.”

“This isn’t your fault either, Tony,” Pepper tried to reason with him, “And the fire was an accident. There’s no way you could have possibly prevented it.”

“Actually, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Peter frowned. “Mr. Stark, what are you talking about?”

Thankfully, Karen had automatically enabled his exterior speakers when he had entered the tower so Tony and the others in the room could actually hear his question.

“I’m talking about this,” Tony pulled out a small metal contraption, placing it on the counter in front of them. He tapped the top of it three times and a hologram sprung to life. The screen showed the profile of a young woman in a Stark Labs’ white coat. Her badge on the front of her coat read Experimental Research Intern.

Tony pointed to the woman’s profile. “Security database says that this was the intern that started the fire a couple of weeks ago - or well, her project. Turns out that accident - maybe not so much of an accident. She’s got no records past three months ago. The name she used during the internship - a fake. Her real name is Cassidy Lade. Apparently, she’s a gearhead for the Albanian Mafia. Nobody’s seen her since the fire.”

“So, you think she was a plant,” Iron Lad said.

“Yes, Finally!” Tony exclaimed, “Someone’s starting to get it.”

“But why?” Peter asked, “And how does the fire have anything to do with the explosion that happened today? Or the robbery down on West 26th Street?”

“I think I might have the answer to that actually,” Iron Lad spoke up, “During the City Hall Banquet heist, one of the gunmen said something. I should have brought it up earlier but I guess I forgot about it until now.”

“Forgot about what?” Pepper prompted.

Iron Lad took a deep breath. “While I was interrogating one of the gunmen I found an electronic inhibitor on his person. My scans hadn’t even picked it up. It was untraceable. Thankfully, the guy was too busy peeing his pants to use it, or else I would have taken a second ungraceful fall to Earth.”

Iron Lad glanced over at Peter. Peter felt himself blush. The two of them hadn’t exactly met on good terms, had they? A head-on collision, not exactly the best first impression.

“Anyway,” Iron Lad continued, “When I asked the whimpering sack where they got the weapons from he told me it came from a rising tech syndicate, one hellbent on destroying you.”

At that, Iron Lad pointed at Tony.

“Well, Gee!” Tony threw his hands up in exasperation, “That would have been a good thing to know a couple of weeks ago!”

Iron Lad looked away sheepishly. His hands began to clench and unclench at his side. It was a tick Peter had seen him do every time he got anxious or nervous.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Iron Lad said quietly, “I should have told you sooner, and I should have been paying more attention today. The barricade should have been a dead giveaway. They weren’t ever planning on robbing that weapons manufacturer. They were there to distract us.”

“We both messed up,” Peter said, walking over to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Stop with the whole blame game thing. It’s sickening. You guys did your best today,” Tony assured them, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face, “Did you get the robbers into police custody?”

Peter nodded, letting his hand drop again.

“Good,” Tony said, “Good, that’s a start. Hopefully, their interrogations go as well as yours did. Maybe they can give us some more information on this new syndicate, see what they want.”

“I think it’s pretty clear,” Iron Lad snorted, “They want you out of the way. Well, technically, us too.” He gestured between him and Peter.

“Wait, why us?”

“You’re a threat to them,” Pepper spoke up, “As long as you two are out there protecting people, you’re always going to be a threat.”

“Take it as a compliment, boys,” Tony said with a smile, “I get threatened all the time, and look how awesome I turned out!”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. Just remember, you two need to watch each other’s backs, stay safe when you’re on patrol. Now that we know there are targets on your backs you need to stay extra vigilant. Who knows where these guys will strike next.”

Iron Lad and Peter both nodded their understanding.

“Good,” She turned to Tony, “You and I have some work to do. We need to make sure that this thing gets minimal coverage and that they don’t raise any alarms that don’t need to be raised. Thank god there were no casualties.”

“This time,” Tony pointed out seriously.

“You’re right,” Pepper agreed as she led them both to the floor’s main elevator, “Do you think we should talk to Happy about increasing the Tower’s security?”

“You’re the boss,” Tony raised his hands in surrender, “But I do think that I’m going to spend this weekend working on the Stark server. There’s no way I’m letting the Albanian Mafia hack us again.”

“Say out of trouble, you two!” Pepper called back to the two boys just before the doors closed.

“And go back to school!” 

The doors shut with a soft click, leaving Peter and Iron Lad alone.

Peter turned to face him. Iron Lad was still working his fist open and closed. Peter frowned. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah, fine, why?”

“You’re doing that fist-clenching thing again,” Peter stated, pointing down to his hand. Iron Lad instantly stilled.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Peter said, “It’s just - usually you only do that when you’re worried about something.”

“Oh - I - uh,” Iron Lad stuttered, “It’s nothing.”

Please, don’t do that,” Peter said firmly, “You heard what Miss. Potts said. We’ve got to have each other’s backs. That means you’ve got to talk to me about stuff, alright?”

Iron Lad hung his head in defeat, “Yeah, sorry, I - I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

Peter nodded. “I get it. This superhero business can be a lot sometimes. You can’t save everybody.”

“No, I meant… talking with people,” Iron Lad admitted shyly. Peter tried not to show his surprise. Thankfully, that was pretty easy with a mask over his face. Still, he hadn’t expected to hear something so personal from Iron Lad. The two didn’t really talk much about themselves, not since that first night on the rooftop. They just didn’t really have time in between punches during fights and usually one of them had to rush off right afterward. Life was always busy for a teenage superhero he guessed.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, my sister says I have trust issues? So…” Iron Lad trailed off and Peter filed the information about Iron Lad having a sister into the back of his mind. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to work on that. I have this - this new friend? He doesn’t know it but he’s actually been helping me a lot. He makes me want to be a better person.”

Peter smiled underneath his mask. He didn’t know why but something about Iron Lad’s admission made his chest warm. 

“But - uh - I don’t know why I just told you that,” Iron Lad said quickly, “That’s not what you asked about at all. And, um, I was actually thinking about this new syndicate? Do you think they’ll try and hit Stark Tower again? I mean - you would think it would be too risky but they’ve already done it twice.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. The first time they did it we thought it was an accident. That’s why we weren’t prepared this time,” Peter said, “But we will be next time. I think they know that too.”

“So, you don’t think they’ll attack here again?”

“Probably not but they’re definitely just getting started. We should regroup and strategize later but right now I gotta go.”

“School?”

“Yep.”

“Ah, bummer, me too,” Iron Lad said, “Wait, how will we get in touch?”

Peter smirked as he started off in a light jog towards the balcony. “I’ll find a way!” He called over his shoulder, and with that, he leaped off the side of the building.

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos? Another chapter, but this time with some more action! We've seen Peter and Harley's relationship developing but what about their alter egos? Have they gotten any closer since they met a couple of months ago? It certainly seems like it. Also, what will happen next now that they know that someone is targeting Stark? Tune in for more action, drama, and awesome character development. These boys still have a long way to go but progress is progress, right?

Let me know what you guys think about Harley and Peter's relationship and what you want to see in up and coming chapters!

Ta-Ta! Enjoy! ; )

Love All,

Your Favorite Author 


	11. Chapter 11 - Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As New York's two youngest vigilantes try to figure out a way to track down the syndicate, the pressure gets to one of the heroes and the other is left to deal with the repercussions.

* * *

Harley told himself he shouldn’t be worried. They’ve been doing this for months now. They’ve got into a good rhythm. They know each other - how they move, how they talk, how they fight. They’re a good team. Spiderman and him.

Sure, the incident last week hadn’t been one of their finest days but they got through it. They learned from their mistakes, and now they were ready for round two. 

Spiderman had somehow gotten ahold of his number the day after the incident - Harley had a sneaking suspicion Friday gave it to him - and texted Harley an address, a date, and a time. He had signed it  _ Your Favorite Web-Slinger  _ and let Harley figure out the rest. That’s how Harley had ended up spending the last nine days cooped up in the Avengers level of Stark Tower with Spiderman after school hours, planning out their next move and how best to take down the syndicate.

It was hard because as the gunman that Harley interrogated at the banquet had said, the syndicate had no brands, no signifying emblems, no leaks. They were untraceable. 

Day by day. Hour by hour. Harley and Spiderman had come up empty-handed. They had scoured the web, searched every underground, dirty source they could find for some kind of hint towards where the syndicate might be hiding but there was nothing. Not even a whisper.

No. Harley wasn’t worried. He was frustrated.

Frustrated that they had been bested in the first place. Frustrated that he couldn’t find out who had blown up Stark Tower - who had dared to threaten his family - and punch them in their godforsaken face. Frustrated that his own incompetence in apprehending these people behind this threat might cost Tony his company, his job, his reputation, and maybe even his life!

Harley wasn’t even aware of what he was doing when he did it. All he knew was that he was seeing red and it was making it hard to concentrate on the computer screen in front of him. He got up, stormed over to the nearest wall, and punched it. Hard.

He was still wearing his suit so he barely even felt the hit. That made him even angrier. With a flick of his wrist, Harley had retracted his suit’s glove. He went to swing again, hoping that the skin on wall contact would work better but he wasn’t given the chance. There was a firm grip on his arm, holding him back.

Harley looked sideways. Spiderman. The reason why he still had his suit on in the first place. The web-slinger was also in costume though Harley could still make out his facial expression beneath the suit. It was in the way the suit’s eyes widened and the tight material stretched against his shocked and open mouth. Then, he watched as Spiderman’s expression shifted. The mask contracted as his eyebrows were pulled closer together and his mouth went to form a thin line. His upset or thinking face. Harley was so busy trying to read these micro-expressions that he completely forgot he was supposed to be angry at all.

That is until Spiderman said, “What are you doing?”

Harley felt his wall come back up again as he quickly yanked his arm out of Spiderman’s hold. Had it seriously only taken a touch to make him go weak? God, he must be really losing it.

“Look,” Spiderman sighed, “I know you’re worried-”

“I’m not,” Harley clipped defensively. He watched Spiderman frown through the suit. Why did he keep doing that? Why was he watching Spiderman so intently? It’s not that he hadn’t realized Spiderman was a person before. He knew there was someone underneath the mask, just like he knew Tony lived underneath the Ironman suit and he was beneath the IronLad suit. It wasn’t a secret. Still, it was the first time he really stopped to process this. He felt stupid now. He had been working side by side next to Spiderman for a whole week now. He had been “partners'' with him for even longer than that. Why was it so important to him now that Spiderman was a person.

Maybe it was because Harley was feeling a little high-strung at the moment. Maybe it was his tendency to babble clashing with his protective layers, causing a conflict within himself. He needed someone to talk to right now. He knew he did. So maybe that’s why he chose at this exact moment to realize that there was a man behind Spiderman’s mask. He needed to believe in that person right now, to trust them because…

“I am worried,” Harley said finally. He said it with a tired sigh. He didn’t think he could call it an admission though, not when they had both already been aware of the truth. It felt nice to say though. It felt so good that he decided to continue. “To be honest, I’m terrified.”

Spiderman froze and Harley felt like he had just made a terrible mistake, but then Spiderman responded back with, “I am too.”

And just like that Harley’s fears and insecurities slowly started to ebb away. 

This was the first time he had talked to someone on such a personal level since, well, since that day he had a panic attack in Stark labs in front of Peter. He was usually so careful about slipping up. He had never really grown up in an environment where not being okay was okay. For a long time, he was punished for being vulnerable, for being weak. It seemed that every time he let his guard down the world would punish him for it because that’s just how it was. It had happened so many times that Harley had started to believe that it was a cause and effect. You open the door and they’ll kick you down and rob you blind. That’s what his dad always used to tell him. Then, after his dad was… the other man. He wasn’t any better. In fact, he was worse. Harley - didn’t want to think about that right now.

He didn’t have to either because it seemed that his life was going to be different from now on. He had felt it the minute his plane had landed in New York. He had felt his world shifting when he met Peter and MJ and Laura and even Spiderman. He was starting to realize that maybe he didn’t have to be alone. Talking with Peter, even before they hadn’t really got along, had opened Harley up in a lot of ways he hadn’t expected to open up. Peter brought out this side of him that made it impossible to be anything else but himself. Maybe that’s why he had been so adamant about hating Peter at first. Maybe it was how Peter’s doe-eyes had seemed to bore into his soul in that hallway, making his body itch with adrenaline and discomfort. Maybe it was the way that Peter hadn’t allowed him to shut the world out for once. Abby had always been there for Harley but she had never really had enough courage to go against his moody temperament and aloof moods. Peter did though, and, sure, maybe he had been the start of this. Maybe Peter had shown him that he could open up and not get burned, but Peter wasn’t here right now and Harley still wanted to try. He wanted to be better. Even though he knew Peter wouldn’t witness this, wouldn’t see him making the effort, it still counted. This wasn’t just for Peter or Abby or anyone else. Harley wanted to do this. Maybe it was uncomfortable and maybe, yes, he was terrified for a lot of different reasons right now. But he wanted to try.

“Do you ever feel like it’s your fault?” Harley’s voice was quiet, a lot quieter than he meant to be, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get the words out if he were to speak up. That would just make it too real, too…. Out there, in the open.

“About what?”

Harley shrugged. He didn’t really know. He didn’t have a specific reason. He just felt that way, and he realized he didn’t have to have an explanation for his feelings to be valid. 

“I don’t know. Everything?” He finally replied.

Spiderman gave a surprised chuckle. “That seems like a lot of stuff to feel responsible for.”

Again, Harley just shrugged. “It’s like a butterfly effect. I don’t do one thing and suddenly it just multiplies and multiplies until it becomes-”

“Everything.”

“Yeah.”

“I feel that too,” Spiderman admitted, “Sometimes. When I mess up on the job. When I can’t save everybody.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

Spiderman winced. “Once. I know it wasn’t my fault. But - uh - I guess a part of me’s still not convinced. I still feel… guilty.”

Harley nodded. A quiet understanding passed through them at that moment.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Spiderman, again, in so many minutes, looked shocked. Harley was surprised too, but he didn’t take them back. Once they were out, Harley realized that he meant what he said. He  _ was _ glad to have someone here with him, even more, glad that it was someone like Spiderman, someone that seemed to understand exactly what he was going through.

Spiderman reached out to comfort him. Harley didn’t know what he was trying to do, maybe Spiderman meant to squeeze his arm, but he moved right at that moment that Spiderman’s hand was reaching for him. Suddenly, Harley found himself holding hands with the spider vigilante. 

Harley blushed a deep crimson. He wasn’t used to physical touch, and even though Spiderman’s costume fabric stood between them, his own hand was still bare from when he detached his armor. He could feel the warmth of Spiderman’s palm against his own and it made his nerves tingle under the touch.

Harley slowly pulled away, his mind feeling a little more clouded than it did a few seconds ago but at least it was less frantic. He cleared his throat, moving away from his companion and back to the computer screens situated on the desk. The two resumed their work but there was a distinct tension to the silence that hadn’t been there before. Both boys tried to ignore it.

After another couple of hours of work, Harley stiffened at his place in front of the computer.

“Uh, Spiderman?” He said, his voice rising higher than was normal for his range, “I think you should see this?”

Spiderman rushed over to his side, peering at the screen over his shoulder. Harley played the video clip again.

“So, I had Todd - my AI - transfer my helmet feed into this computer monitor so that I could play back our last fight with the robbers - er, well - I guess they weren’t really robbers? They were more like decoys and-”

“Iron Lad, the point?”

“Right - uh - yeah. So anyway, I was reviewing the footage and… take a look at this.” Harley paused the video as it reached the frame he had been waiting for. He zoomed in on something near the very edge of the screen. He had missed it the first six times he had watched it, but it was a good thing Harley was a bit obsessive when it came to these things. Now that he saw it though, he couldn’t unsee it. He pointed to it on the screen.

Harley heard Spiderman take a sharp intake of breath from beside him.

“Is that-”   
  


“A drone,” Harley finished, both of them now staring intently at the drone’s reflection in one of the high rises’ glass paneling, “Whoever sent the decoy troopers was definitely watching us with this drone.”

“They must have been monitoring us to make sure that we wouldn’t make it to Stark Tower in time,” Spiderman added, “Is there any way we can track this drone? Maybe it can lead us back to one of the Syndicate’s bases.”

“Way ahead of you, Spidey,” Harley said, “See, at first, I thought that maybe I could try and get a read on the area’s electromagnetics during the time of the fight and pinpoint which code belonged to the drone so that we could trace its signature.”

“But if the drone really does belong to the syndicate then it won’t have a unique signature.”

“Exactly.”

“So we’re stuck?”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Harley smirked from behind his helmet, pulling up another video feed on his monitor.

“Traffic cams?” Spiderman laughed, “You can’t be serious!”

  
“Oh, these aren’t traffic cams, Spider-Boy. This is footage from Tony’s secure network.”

Spiderman rose an eyebrow, or at least, that’s what it looked like underneath his suit. “Mr. Stark has a secret video network stationed around the city?”

“After the battle of New York are you really that surprised?”

Spiderman shrugged. “Fair enough. So does Mr. Stark’s network show where the drone went?”

“Not exactly,” Harley explained, “The network is only stationed on the main streets but the feed follows the drone all of the way to this street.” Harley points to a place on the new york map schematics on the second screen to his right. 

“Brushwall Avenue,” Spiderman read, “Wait, why have I heard that name before?”

“Officially, it’s just a street in lower Manhattan.”

“And unofficially?”

“It’s crawling with underground trading and Blackmarket hotspots.”

“How does the city not know about this? This place isn’t exactly surrounded by abandoned warehouses.”

Harley just shrugged. “I guess the city’s just got bigger fish to fry what with aliens and superheroes roaming about now. Plus, if the drone did end up there, there’s a good chance that the syndicate is involved which means that the dealings going down aren’t just petty pop-up swaps. They’ve got resources in high places and friends in low ones.”

Spiderman nodded. “That makes sense. So what do we do now? I doubt we would get very far poking our noses around there in these.” He gestured to the uniforms they were wearing.

“Good point.” Harley frowned. If only they knew each other’s identities, then they could just go there together in civilian form. A part of Harley tingled with excitement at the concept of finally getting to see who his partner was behind the mask, but he quickly squashed it down. Now wasn’t the time. There was already too much going on. They didn’t need to throw in revealed identities into the mix. Harley didn’t know if he was even ready for something like that, to show Spiderman his face? Wearing the helmet, this mask, made him feel invincible somehow, it protected him from the rest of the world. He wasn’t ready to give that protection up yet.

“What if we went in civilian form?” Harley tensed at Spiderman’s suggestion and the vigilante hurriedly continued, “I mean - not together obviously, but like - you could start at one start of the street and I start at the other. We work our way through the shops until we either get the information we need or we get too close to meeting each other.” Spiderman pointed to a section in the middle of the street. “If I take the Northside and you take the South, then we can go all of the way up until these two points. That gives us five shops in the middle. That way there’s no chance of us seeing or meeting one another.

“That could work,” Harley said cautiously, “But we're still… young. Don’t you think two teens walking down Blackmarket central might be a little suspicious?”

“So we lie. It’s not like anyone there will know who we are anyway.” Spiderman said flippantly. 

Harley’s eyes narrowed. This plan seemed very flawed with a high probability of going very wrong. Somehow he got the feeling that Spiderman was a terrible liar. Call it a hunch, but the boy just seemed too nice to be good at something like that. Harley, on the other hand, had full confidence that he could come up with a plausible enough excuse for being in the darker streets of Manhattan. He already looked the part with his messy hair and dark circles under his eyes. After the week he had Harley had no doubt that people wouldn’t give him a second glance if he told them he was a drug dealer or something. That’s how bad he looked. Like he said, it had been a hard week.

“Fine,” Harley relented finally, “it’s not like we’ve got any better options.”

“Alright let’s go then!”

  
“Wait,” Harley said, swiveling in his chair as Spiderman went to leave the tower, “We’re going now?”

Harley was sure that Spiderman was giving him the ‘duh’ look under his suit. “You got somewhere better you have to be?”

He made a good point. They had been waiting for a break like this for over a week. It just seemed so sudden. He wished he could have a little more time to prepare but Spiderman was right. There wasn’t any time to waste. They had to go now. Besides, the sun was already starting to set. If they waited any longer, they would have to wait until tomorrow. 

“No,” Harley gritted, getting up out of his seat and following Spiderman to the balcony.

The two flew through the air, Harley literally flying while Spiderman swung in between skyscrapers and other buildings on his webs. They kept to the shadows and unused alleyways, sometimes even running along the tops of roofs to keep out of sight. It was harder to move stealthily during the daylight. Harley had only had to do it a couple of times and it was a lot harder than under the dark blanket of the night. When they finally reached the point where they would split and go their separate ways, the two paused on one of the rooftops.

“This is it,” Harley said awkwardly. That much was obvious. He hadn’t needed to say anything. They could have just gone their separate ways without a word, but Harley had so much he still wanted to say. What if something happened? What if it all went terribly wrong and this was the last time he would ever get to talk with his partner? It was an irrational fear, Harley knew that. But after years of assuming the worst, and inevitably, unfortunately, being right, Harley had yet to shake the nasty habit of absolute pessimism during times of crisis.

“Hey,” Spiderman said, laying a hand on his shoulder and drawing him out of his thoughts, “It’s going to be okay.”

Harley snorted. “You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Harley blinked, surprised by the conviction in his voice. He had expected a placid, restrained, “we’ve got this” or something to that effect, but the ‘yes’ felt like something completely different than anything Harley had prepared for. Harley belatedly realized why it meant so much to him. Maybe it wasn’t the words or the confidence. Maybe it was the belief, the positivity, that made his heart stutter in his chest. Either way, Harley felt himself soften and his resolve harden. 

He had someone who believed in him. Spiderman believed in him, and that knowledge was worth far more than any reassuring words he could have spoken.

Harley had the sudden urge, now more than ever, to tell Spiderman something, anything, just to let him know at least a piece of what he was feeling right now. Harley looked down, even though the suit he could see his hands shaking slightly. When had that started? Harley stilled them by gripping the edge of the building.

“Hey,” Harley started, his voice coming out weaker than he had meant it to. Spiderman looked over at him. He couldn’t tell if it was real or all in his head, but Harley could feel a tension that hadn’t been there a second ago. He longed to rip both of their masks off and stare into his partner’s eyes, but he couldn’t. Instead, Harley cleared his throat and said, “Don’t die.”

Spiderman let out a choked laugh. “What?”

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Harley winced. He hadn’t meant it to sound so harsh. He was really terrible at this whole talking thing, wasn’t he? He couldn’t take it back, so Harley just continued before Spiderman could say anything. Rushing through his words he added, hopefully, a little more softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Partner.”

Harley, never one to sit in his own embarrassment, flew away before Spiderman could respond. As he flew, he prayed to whoever was out there, listening, that they would watch over his partner. He needed to see him again. There was so much he still needed to say. He was just still figuring out how to say it.

* * *

A/N:

To be completely honest with y'all, I don't know what this chapter was, I really don't. If you liked it, fantastic! If you think it was total trash, well... that's valid too I guess. It's really just a filler but there are important parts in it too so it's not totally useless?? Anyway, this is just me as an author trying to explore the characters. Also, this was me trying to write an action chapter and then realizing that I am no good at writing action and ending up with like eight pages of inner monologuing instead?? For those of you who want more action, I already am in the process of the next chapter so yes, there will be more action to come. Sorry for the late update and again, no clue what I was thinking with this but we're gonna keep it?? IDK MAN. Enjoy?

#Spider-Lad?? #Harley is trying #So is the author

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


	12. Chapter 12 - Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Iron Lad and Peter go their separate ways, hoping to learn more about the syndicate they're fighting against, Peter ends up running into someone he doesn't know, but they certainly seem to know him.
> 
> Also, Peter thought he knew the English language pretty well, but something about Iron Lad makes him wonder if he still has a lot to learn.

* * *

A/N: I'm Back! Have had this chapter half-written for almost a month now. Basically, as I've said before, I'm really bad at writing action.

Oh well, here you go! 

* * *

Peter watched as Iron Lad flew away, the fading sunlight glinting off his armor as he went. Beneath his mask, Peter frowned. Iron Lad’s words had left him stumbling. He had sounded desperate to convey something, though Peter didn’t think he got the message. Had Iron Lad been speaking in code, was there something he should have understood that he had missed?

Either way, Peter couldn’t focus on that now. He had his own section of Brushwall to investigate. Peter quietly maneuvered across the rooftops along the street until he was positioned on top of the last building where Brushwall intersected with another street. The end of the street. Peter released his suit, letting it pool at his feet, silently relieved that he had thought to wear his civilian clothes under his suit this morning. He would have to leave his suit here, bundled in a corner on the roof which was less than ideal, but hopefully, everything went according to plan and he would be back to collect it later. Hopefully.

Peter sighed, casting one last look at his suit. Then, he looked down at the street. Empty at the moment. No one was there to watch as he scaled down the wall of the building and jumped down on the sidewalk. Peter took another look around before stuffing his hands in his pocket and walking around the corner.

Brushwall Avenue was nothing spectacular. It wasn’t in great condition but it didn’t scream Blackmarket locale either. It just seemed like any other run-down neighborhood street with breaking sidewalks and grubby storefronts.

Peter walked slow - but not slow enough to catch any attention - as he meandered down the street, keeping his eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. After passing several bland stores that held no real interesting features, Peter started to realize that his plan might have been a better idea in his head.

What did he expect? Two criminals just waltz into the street and start a brawl, divulging all of the syndicate's deepest, darkest secrets?

Just as he thought that Peter heard a loud smack, the sound of skin making hard contact with more skin. His head snapped up to find two men heatedly staring one another down. One had a fresh wound on his cheek that was already starting to turn different shades of color, and another with blood dripping from his knuckles.

“You shut your mouth, Leonid!”

Peter quickly ducked behind a long-disused mail dropbox, its old, decaying paint looking more gray than blue.

“Me! You’ve got some nerve, Gerome! Months we’ve been at this, months! When are we gonna get our cut! We deserve our pay after that stunt with Stark Tower. We risked our necks for that job. We deserve our cut!”

“Quit it, quit it!” Gerome hissed, shoving his comrade, “You wanna get us in trouble! You wanna die! The syndicate’s got ears, man, ears everywhere!”

“Oh yeah?” Leonid sounded loudly, spreading his arms out wide, “Where is the syndicate now? They ain’t nothing, man. We the ones who do the heavy lifting. I ain’t waiting any longer. I’m gonna get my pay now or I’m gonna go straight to the cops.”

“No, you won’t. Don’t say that.”

“I will. I got lots to tell too!” Leonid boasted proudly, “I could tell them all about the attacks on City Hall and Stark Tower and the Brooklyn Bridge. I could do it!”

“Leonid-” Gerome tried to plead with him but the man could not be silenced.

“No, no more! I will get my pay or I will-”

A gunshot echoed through the streets and Leonid’s body crumbled to the ground.

Dead.

Peter shuddered, staying hunched behind the maildrop. He knew he should do something, as a hero, he shouldn’t just let this happen, but the man was already dead. There was nothing that could be done about that. Peter stayed, watching as another man, carrying a hand-gun, stepped out of the shadows and onto the street.

“Is he a friend of yours?” The stranger asked the man named Gerome.

Gerome looked up with frightened eyes. He shook his head fervently before looking back at Leonid’s corpse again. Gerome winced. He looked away, focusing on the horizon. “No sir.”

The stranger regarded Gerome, head cocking to the side, eyes sharp and calculating. He lowered his gun. “Good. Now clean up this mess.”

“Yes sir,” Gerome said.

“The body - it must not be found. This never happened. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

The stranger walked back into the darkened alleyway he had come out of, dissolving into shadows as if he were one of them. Gerome, shaking now, bent down and began to drag his fallen comrade to a truck parked on the street nearby. The body was thrown in the back and Gerome got in the driver’s seat, driving away, leaving Peter to wonder what he had just witnessed.

The City Hall stick-up incident. The fire and, later, explosion at Stark tower. Then, the Brooklyn Bridge. That’s what the man, Leonid, had mentioned during his ramblings, except there had been no incident at the Brooklyn Bridge, not in the news, not from what he had heard. 

At least… not yet.

Peter had to get this information to Iron Lad or Tony. Maybe this time when the syndicate struck they could be ready for them. This was just what they had needed. Peter pivoted from his sitting position, preparing to escape this wretched avenue only for his vision to be met with a pair of thick legs and big feet covered with steel-toed, black workman’s boots. Peter looked upward, coming face to face with a man whose size could rival that of the Hulk. 

He gulped. This wasn’t good.

“Do I know you?” The hulking man asked.

“Er - No?” Peter scrambled to his feet before trying to rush past the man. He didn’t get very far. The man’s hands wrapped around his arms, all the way around, keeping him trapped in place. Peter helplessly watched as the man’s eyes narrowed, observing his features with terrifying scrutiny.

“You,” The man said, “You are the red-tights boy.”

Peter froze. This was not good at all.

“You were the one who destroyed my friend!” The man accused, his voice rising in anger.

“Your friend?” Peter repeated weakly.

“Adrian Toomes.”

“Adrian T-Toomes? You mean the vulture?” Peter stuttered, his eyes widening, not believing his rotten luck. How had this guy seen his human identity anyway? He was pretty sure only Adian had seen him without his mask and that was after the plane crash. Right?

“To me, he was Adrian Toomes,” The man grunted, squeezing Peter’s arms tighter.

Peter grunted against the pain. “Right, of course, my bad.”

“You will pay for what you did to him.”

“What I - What I did to him?” Peter spluttered, “I saved his life!”

“You destroyed him!” The man roared, lifting Peter up with his large, meaty hands and throwing him across the street. Peter landed in the middle of the road. The burning sensation on his back letting him know that he probably had road rash. Peter grunted as he rolled over onto his side to avoid the friction of gravel against his wound. 

He could only hope that Iron Lad was faring better than he was.

“You ruined his career!” The man jeered, coming at Peter once again. He kicked him in the gut, sending him flying back into an electricity line pole. 

Peter groaned. “What? His shining career in larceny?”

“You dragged his family name through the dirt!”

“Technically I think he did that all on his own,” Peter defended before ducking his head just in time. The man’s large workman’s boot went sailing just above Peter’s head, cracking the pole behind him.

“You mock him! You dare mock the great Adrian Toomes! He was my mentor, my idol!” The man kicked again, this time landing another blow on Peter’s stomach. Peter cried out as the kick sent him slamming back against the pole again, the burns on his back screaming at him as the splinters of wood penetrated his torn shirt.

A third kick - this time to Peter’s head - he blocked it with his hands. The momentum sent them flying back in his face. He was lucky he didn’t stab a finger through his own eye.

Peter knew he had to do something. 

As the man tried to kick him again, Peter rolled out of the way. He popped up from the ground in a rush, stumbling back a step and then another as a dizzy spell washed over him. Peter screwed his eyes shut tightly, trying to shake the feeling. When he opened his eyes again, he barely had enough time to adjust before he had to dodge a fist heading straight for his face.

The man swung again. 

Peter ducked right, striking the man in the side. 

The man grunted, in both pain and surprise as he tried to block Peter’s next attack. He was too slow. Peter hit him again, this time catching him straight on in the stomach. The man fell back, landing on his butt with a sickly moan. His breath was lost for a moment and he let out a gasping, choking sound while clutching his stomach.

While the man was doubled over in shock, clearly not having remembered that Peter - or Spiderman - possessed superhuman strength, Peter stepped forward only to stagger back. He tried again but again he lost his balance, having to wobble aimlessly to try and right himself. His vision was blurry and the ground felt like it was shifting under his feet. Peter’s hands flew up to grasp his head. It was pounding. Had it been pounding before? He tried to shake it off.

Out of the corner of his vision, Peter could see the man struggling to his feet again. Peter didn’t have much time before the man was swinging at him. Peter held back a groan. Why could the bad guys, when they got knocked down, ever stay down?

Peter gave his head another hard shake, forcing himself to tear his hands away from the sides of his face. The man was on his feet again. Peter was pretty sure he was trying to tell him something too but his ears were ringing too loudly to understand a word.

Then, the man was charging. Peter’s eyes widened as he had to literally drop and roll out of the way. He ended up with his back against the street pole again. The rough friction of splintered wood against his wounded back made Peter grimace. It was unexpected contact, the pain he hadn’t been prepared for, but the pain had kick-started an idea in his head.

When the man charged at him again, Peter didn’t duck out of the way, he didn’t dodge the man, he didn’t move. Despite the worsening pain of the man slamming him back into the pole, Peter allowed it to happen. The man pulled him by the front of the shirt and shoved him back a second time. Peter grunted in pain. Again, the man was speaking to him but Peter could not hear him.

When Peter was shoved back for the third time, he felt the crack he had been waiting for, and he couldn’t help the smirk that overtook his face. The man looked perplexed for all of two seconds before Peter, faster than any normal human could have managed, slipped out of the man’s grip, maneuvering out of the way just in time to see the top half of the street pole land on the man’s unsuspecting head.

Peter approached the man cautiously, he wasn’t smirking anymore.

The man’s eyes were closed as he laid sprawled on the street. Peter tried not to compare his body to the corpse that had been lying only paces away a few minutes ago. His breath stayed caught in his throat all the way up until the moment he leaned down and felt the man’s pulse still thrumming steadily against the skin of his neck.

Alive.

Peter let out a tired sigh, still squatting over the man’s unconscious body. He gave the man an awkward smile, despite the fact that no one was there to see it. “Sorry, man, but I think it’s time you find a better idol.”

With that, Peter scampered off down the street. He quickly scaled the wall of the building where he had left his things and put his suit back on, forgoing his civilian clothes as they were too tarnished to salvage now. The tight spandex material of his suit against his injuries was uncomfortable, for sure, but Peter couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment, not when he had the information they had all been looking for, not when he was still worried about how Iron Lad was doing.

Peter fought the urge to swing by Iron Lad’s part of Brushwall, just to check up on him, not that he would be able to identify him anyway - actually, Peter hoped he would because he couldn’t imagine Iron Lad’s real face looking anywhere similar to the type of people he had met at Brushwall. Peter bet he had a pretty face, the kind that seemed unapproachable at first but was still filled with warmth and a secret kindness.

Instead of breaking their agreement and going to find Iron Lad, Peter just sent him a quick message to his AI, not knowing if he would even receive it now or later. 

It read: _Found something. Meet me at the Brooklyn Bridge._

Peter didn’t know why he had chosen the bridge as their meeting spot instead of the tower. It wasn’t likely that the next attack was going to happen for a while, especially after the explosion at the tower being so recent, but something told him that they needed to meet at the bridge. Maybe it was his spidey senses trying to tell him something or maybe it was just Peter’s human senses in exhaustion-driven paranoia. Either way, they met at the bridge twenty minutes later, and Peter tried not to feel overwhelming relief as Iron Lad landed in front of him on the top of one of the bridge’s arches. It was perfectly normal to be happy to find that his partner had made it out of a dangerous mission alive. What was not normal was the way Peter’s heart raced in his chest as his partner gripped his shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze as if testing to see if Peter was real and not just some phantom of his imagination.

When Iron Lad determined that Peter was indeed real, his posture seemed to relax immediately from its tense state. “You didn’t die.”

And the statement was completely obvious and unnecessary, but Peter felt as if he was starting to understand something about Iron Lad. His partner, for all of his charisma and confidence, Peter was slowly learning, was actually quite shy, at least about expressing his feelings. He didn’t ever tell Peter “I’m sorry” or “I feel upset” or “I was worried”. Instead, he said things like “You didn’t die” and Peter could almost hear the soft “I’m glad” before his statement. I’m glad you didn’t die because I care. It was unspoken, of course, but it was there and Peter didn’t know how he could have missed this kind of language before. It suddenly made him wonder what Iron Lad was trying to say to him before the mission. He wanted to ponder it more, he wanted to ask Iron Lad about it too, but now wasn’t the time. They had more important - well, maybe not, but definitely more time-sensitive - matters to discuss at the moment.

“It’s here,” Peter blurted out.

Peter could practically feel Iron Lad’s eyebrows furrowing beneath his suit. “What?”

“The next attack,” Peter rushed to explain, “I don’t know what it will be or when but something’s going to happen here. I overheard two men talking about it on the street.”

“Okay,” Iron Lad said finally, his voice stoic and unreadable, “Have you told Tony yet?”

Peter shook his head.

“Okay, then that is our first move. After that, I think we should take turns patrolling the bridge when we’re not at school that is.”

Peter felt himself shift uncomfortably as Iron Lad mentioned school. He already knew they were both still in school, either high school or college, Peter still wasn’t sure about Iron Lad’s age, but it made him feel weird every time it was brought up. It felt too personal like any knowledge about Iron Lad’s civilian life set his skin prickling with anticipation. Peter tried to quell the feeling.

“Uh, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Hey,” Iron Lad stepped closer and that certainly didn’t help Peter’s nerves until there was a warm hand on his shoulder. Peter belatedly realized that Iron Lad had retracted his suit glove again and was resting his bare skin against Peter’s suit. The contact made Peter freeze then melt. He felt his own shoulders sag slightly as if the weight of his problems wasn’t as heavy as they had been a second ago, as if he was now sharing them with the person standing in front of him.

“You good?” Iron Lad questioned him and Peter felt himself give a slow nod. “We’re - uh - we’re gonna be okay. Right? Yeah, we're good. Yeah...”

Peter frowned, unsure what Iron Lad was rambling about until - oh, Oh. Was Iron Lad trying to reassure him? It certainly seemed that way. Peter had the urge to explain that it wasn’t what he thought, that Peter was actually fantasizing about his partner rather than actually worrying about the mission at hand, but that would probably be really awkward… and weird. Besides, Iron Lad was trying to comfort him, and it was kind of working because now Peter was smiling because his partner was being adorably sincere for someone who didn’t seem to like feelings.

“Thanks,” Peter said fondly, “And I know we're… good.”

His lips quirked up at the end as he mimicked Iron Lad’s wording.

“Alright, cool, good,” Iron Lad pulled away, seeming a bit sheepish now as he let the glove form over his hand again. Peter tried not to stare at the skin before it disappeared, tried not to take in every detail and every inch of that hand before it turned back into just another piece of armor on a suit.

“Okay, so I know the syndicate probably won’t strike the bridge for another couple weeks if they’re sticking to the timeline between their other attacks but it still helps to be prepared,” Peter started, returning his focus back to the mission at hand.

Iron Lad nodded along in agreement.

“I can do a quick scan right now, maybe search the bridge for any bombs or stashed weapons or places where weapons can be stashed so that-”

Peter’s next words morphed into a surprised yell as he felt the bridge shift unexpectedly beneath his feet making him tumble off the arch he had been standing on. As he spun closer and closer to the bridge road below Peter was met with the terrifying thought that he was spinning far too fast to be able to tell which way was up or down, too disoriented to shoot his webs out to catch himself. 

He was falling, too fast and too chaotic to save himself.

After becoming Spiderman Peter had lost all fear of heights. He hadn’t minded them before but now he almost loved them, becoming Spiderman had practically given him the power of flight. And yet, in this moment, Peter was hit with the disturbing realization that practically having flying abilities and actually having flying abilities were two very different things. After all, it wasn’t the fall that made people fear heights…

It was the landing.

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos? How's it hanging in 2021? Still awful? Yeah, I feel that. I hope this update helped to brighten up your new year ;)

Anyways, somehow I made this "action" chapter kind of fluffy almost? Idk. I'm just a very fluffy person, I guess.

Ooh, did that sound as weird to you as it did to me? Yeah, I thought so. Oops. 

Hoped you liked this! Let me know what you think!

THE CHAPTER YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR IS HAPPENING NEXT! BE PREPARED!

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


	13. Chapter 13 - Two Science Nerds Stop an Explosion (Not Really)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BOOM! (That's it)

* * *

Oh god, he was falling! Spiderman, his friend, his partner, was falling!

Harley couldn’t think about anything else as he dove down to intercept Spiderman before he hit the ground. He might have had super healing powers but Harley doubted that even Spiderman could heal from that kind of impact. After all, you couldn’t heal yourself if you were already dead.

The thought made Haley surge even faster toward the ground. Two-hundred fifty feet now.

Harley didn’t like heights, even with the suit, he didn’t like them. Yet, here he was, plummeting towards the ground faster than he had ever flown before, not because he had suddenly lost his fear of heights, but because he suddenly found that he had something far greater to fear.

The road below was getting closer, too close. Every instinct in Harley’s body was begging him to pull up. He couldn’t. All he saw was Spiderman. With one last burst of energy from his foot thrusters, only a hundred feet above the air, Harley’s hand brushed against Spiderman’s foot. He felt a surge of triumph go through him only for it to be quickly drained away as his partner spun out of control again. Harley swore. Fifty feet now. They were running out of time. He reached again, missing by a mere millimeter. Then, a flash of a car’s headlights nearly blinded him. They were too close. They weren’t going to make it, and if Spiderman was going to fall, then so was Harley.

In one last final effort to save them both, Harley dove headfirst towards Spiderman’s body, his momentum carrying him past, and his arms quickly shot out to wrap around his partner’s torso. Harley didn’t bother to estimate the distance between them and the ground now. It didn’t matter. He clung tightly to Spiderman, his eyes snapping shut as he waited for the impact.

Harley felt a shift, his blood rushing down to his toes rather than his head, and a gust of wind beneath him along with the sound of a car horn. 

He opened his eyes. Both he and Spiderman were hovering in the air, just above the streaming cars below, another couple of feet and their toes would be able to brush the tops of the cars. They had made it, they had survived! But how?

“You alright there, Cowboy?”

Harley’s face lit up, never so happy to hear his AI’s voice filter through his suit speakers before. His voice swimming with gratitude and relief, he asked, “Todd? Did you-”

“Override the suit’s systems and pull you up at the last second, successfully saving your asses? Yes, yes I did,” Todd replied smugly, “You know, for future reference, if you plan on pulling a stunt like this again, I recommend not going into shock and forgetting to pull up.”

“But that’s what I’ve got you for,” Harley responded, equally smug. He could practically feel Todd rolling his eyes despite the fact that he had no body.

Spiderman let out a quiet, shaky chuckle into Harley’s shoulder, making him suddenly aware of the fact that he was still holding onto him only feet above a freeway.

“Hey,” Harley said softly, though his grip didn’t loosen from around Spiderman’s waist, if anything, it only tightened further, “You okay?”

Spiderman nodded into his shoulder, his arms still flung around Harley’s neck. “Yep.”

Harley’s face hardened as his eyes narrowed in on something over Spiderman’s shoulder. “Good because this isn’t over yet. That attack you told me about? I think it’s happening right now. Todd, can you find the source of the tremors?”

“Already did. It’s coming from the middle of the bridge, and the machine is still-” Todd was interrupted as another tremor shook the bridge. “-Active.”

Harley flew them over to the middle of the bridge and set Spiderman down on the bridge railing. “You aren’t gonna fall on me again, are you?”

Spiderman shook his head. “The first one just caught me by surprise. I’ll be able to stick this time.”

Harley nodded.

“So, where is the device?”

Harley looked around until Todd lit up part of the screen red, showing him where it was. Harley pointed to the spot. “There,” He said, “It’s attached to the bottom of the largest arch.”

“Great,” Spiderman said, getting ready to swing up to it, “Let’s grab it and destroy it!”

“Wait,” Harley flung an arm out in front of him, successfully stopping his partner in his tracks. Spiderman looked over at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. “We can’t. That thing is emitting low-frequency waves depending on how low it is, if we get too close, it could end up killing us. I don’t know about you but I’d like my organs not to turn into slush.”

Spiderman’s eyes seemed to widen beneath the suit. “You mean like infrasound? The ability to get around obstacles with little dissipation, right?”

“Yeah,” Harley said, mildly impressed that Spiderman seemed to understand what he was talking about. “The idea is that the vibrations cause the grains to behave collectively like a fluid, lowering friction in the granular material and fluidizing solid objects. Basically, it could melt our internal organs, starting with our eyes.”

“It also can cause heightened feelings of awe or fear in humans which is probably why you slipped into shock during your plummet to Earth,” Todd remarked.

“Thanks, Todd,” Harley deadpanned.

“I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“Shut up.”

“Alright, alright,” Spiderman held up his hands, “What do we do then? I’m pretty sure the bridge can only withstand one or two more of those emissions before the foundations shift and this whole thing goes down like the Titanic.”

“He’s right,” Todd agreed.

Harley groaned, “Alright, okay. Our first priority should be to get all of these civilians off the bridge. Spidey, you go to that end and make sure no more cars get on this bridge. The ones already on it should be able to filter out on their own. Then, once everyone’s off, we block the bridge and meet back here. Got it?”

Spiderman nodded and swung off in the opposite direction. Harley flew over to his entrance of the bridge, searching for something to stop more cars from entering the bridge. Then, he spotted an empty bulldozer sitting in a parking lot next to the bridge. Harley grinned, flying over and picking it up, just as the last car passed through the entrance, he dropped the bulldozer on the road. The next car that tried to enter screeched to a stop in front of it, shouting obscenities at him. Harley ignored him, flying back to the road on the other side of the railing, the exit, making sure that the cars were still filtering out. They were, and the last car left the bridge just as another tremor shook the infrastructure. Not having time to find something to block the exit in case someone was stupid enough to actually use the wrong road to try and cross, Harley took the railing that separated the two roads and bent it backward so that it was twisted across the exit. Now that both sides of the roads were blocked, Harley flew back to the center, Spiderman already there waiting for him.

“Is everyone off the bridge?”

“I think so.”

“Good,” Harley nodded before looking up at the device still looming above their heads, “Now how do we disconnect this thing?”

“I could try dislodging it with my webs. That way it’ll fall and crack on the road.”

Harley thought that plan sounded dangerous and stupid, but they didn’t have any time, options, or resources left to spare. So, he nodded reluctantly. “Alright, do it.”

Spiderman nodded, letting out a shaky breath before shooting two webs up into the air. They stuck easily to the termor device and he immediately began to pull down. The device shifted a little but it did not fall. Spiderman pulled again, harder this time. The device dislodged from the bridge’s arch a little bit more.

Harley’s jaw was clenched nervously and when Todd reminded him they didn’t have much time before a third wave hit, he started clenching his hands as well. “C’mon, c’mon,” He muttered anxiously. Spiderman was straining, pulling at the webs, each time coming closer and closer to dislodging the device until finally-

It all happened in the span of a second.

Just as Spiderman wrenched the device from its holding, the third wave started to echo through the air, this time with the device falling towards them, increasing the intensity of the waves as the distance narrowed between the source of the waves and the two heroes on the bridge. Harley’s eyes widen, his muscles kicking into action before he could even process what he was doing. For a second time that day, Harley found himself lunging towards Spiderman, who had begun to tumble back from the sudden inertia of no longer pulling against an immovable object, and tackling them both to the ground, sliding them as far away from the falling object as they could get.

The waves suddenly all collided with one another and erupted in one large explosion as the device smashed against the bridge, the force shattering the ground only feet away from where they had been standing before. Harley didn’t even have time to cry out in pain as the jolt of the collection of waves seemed to shake every particle in his body, sending him straight into unconsciousness. Harley didn’t even have time to think or worry about Spiderman, still wrapped up in his arms, as darkness overtook his mind, maybe for the last time ever. Harley didn’t have time to do anything at all. They were out of time.

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos? Probably the shortest chapter of all time but I was really excited to update and this was too good of a cliffhanger that I had to leave you guys in suspense!

I know, I'm evil ; )

Anyway, what do you guys think is going to happen next? Or what would you like to see happen?

If you remember the summary of the story, do you think that this is somehow connected?

Who knows. Guess y'all are just gonna have to wait to find out!

Love All,

Your Favorite Author

(Who you probably hate right now)


	14. Chapter 14 - There's someone in my mouse!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter awakes after the explosion to find that something has changed since the last time he was conscious.

* * *

Peter wasn’t really sure how it happened. One moment he was unconsciously swimming in the pitch-black darkness of his mind, and, in the next, he felt his senses jolt to life, overwhelmed beyond his capacities. The loud noises of taxi cabs and shouting voices. The smells of every flavor. It filled him to the brim. His body felt electric like a thousand touches were all being pressed against him at once. He didn’t think any of this was supposed to be painful, but the sheer magnitude of it all was too much to bear that it might as well have been a real pain.

Peter stumbled back, or at least, he had tried to, in whatever way you could when trapped inside your own head. The lights, the sounds, the feelings - it was like viewing his whole life in the short span of a single, jarring minute.

Then, it stopped, and he was back in the darkness again. Peter was stunned. He was in shock, probably, having experienced what he just had. He didn’t even know what to make of what had just happened.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t left any time to ponder as he felt himself being dragged somewhere like the undertow of an ocean current pulling him back under.

This time, when he was flooded by memories, they felt unfamiliar and foreign, like experiences he had not yet experienced. Almost as if the memories on replay in his mind weren’t actually his own. Most of the memories we're going too fast to really decipher. They all seemed to blur together in front of him. But it was like when he listened to someone speaking Spanish with a native tongue: most of the words would sail past him but every so often a word would catch his attention, one that he could understand.

Memories were a lot more fluid than words. Nothing was ever fully comprehensible. But sometimes… sometimes, it was a feeling - cold and strangely metallic. Other times, it was a scene - a grassy field, a small warehouse filled with gadgets and gizmos, or Stark Labs but from a slightly higher vantage point than what Peter was used to. There was the laugh of a little girl in this memory and stomach curdling dread in his stomach in this one. Coffee pots and slammed doors. Raw hands and hesitant smiles. Class rock mixed in with a Taylor Swift album.

All of it felt like Peter was living a life that wasn’t his own.

Finally, Peter felt the shockwave of the device breaking on the bridge. His last memory, and this person’s last memory. 

When the darkness smoothed over his sense again, Peter finally had the answer he was looking for, or at least one of them. All of the memories he had just seen and felt, the ones that were unfamiliar to him -- they were Iron Lad’s memories. Well, Peter thought, they weren’t Iron Lad’s memories; they were the memories of the person underneath the suit. It felt wrong to call him Iron lad now, not after Peter became keenly aware of the fact that there was a person beneath the suit, one that had a life and a family and feelings and… everything that went beyond being just a superhero. Peter only wished that the memories would have been more helpful in helping him uncover Iron Lad’s true identity.

Of course, no law said Peter couldn’t know his identity. He knew he could, but he also knew that in order for Iron Lad to trust him with his identity that meant that Peter would have to reveal himself as well. And Peter, well, he just - he just couldn’t do that. Not yet. Maybe it was because the two of them had gotten into a routine, a partnership, and Peter didn’t want to mess that up with the truth of their identities. But maybe, just maybe, it was because Peter was finally starting to feel connected to someone. Iron Lad wasn’t just a friend or a partner. It was more than that. He seemed to understand Peter in a way that no one else had before. Not even his closest friends and family. Peter knew it was because the two of them were nearly the same. Their pasts, their struggles, the similar weight of the world on each of their shoulders. It was the unique weight of being a superhero and yet being all too human. 

Peter thought back to himself, only months ago, he had been so lost and unsure about his place in the world. There was this sense of isolation that came with feeling responsible for someone, except, Peter felt responsible for everyone, even his friends - no, especially his friends - and that was a very lonely life to lead at only eighteen years old.

Iron Lad was different though. Since his partnership had begun, Peter hadn’t felt quite so lonely anymore. He hadn’t realized it until now but it was true. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had someone to help save the people of New York, but more importantly, he had someone to help save him. 

So maybe Peter didn’t want to learn Iron Lad’s identity after all. At least… not yet.

Peter sprung back to the physical world with the incessant sound of a heartbeat monitor ringing in his ear. Any other time, with Peter’s heightened sense, he would have found the sound annoying, but in this instance, he used it to ground himself.

Peter let out a groan as the aches of his body finally was recognized by his brain. When his eyes fluttered open he found himself laid out in a hospital bed. Or was it Stark Tower’s medical wing? More likely the latter.

Searching around the room, Peter found out two things. One, he was alone; there was no one else in the room. Two, judging by the dark skyline he could see out the windows of the room, it was night. What day of the week and, therefore, how long he was out, was harder to discern. Shifting his weight, Peter swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was unsurprised to find that he was still wearing his Spiderman suit. He was, however, surprised to find that it had several holes and slices in the fabric until he remembered that he had been inside the blast radius of a device equivalent to that of a projectile bomb. At least all of his injuries seemed to have healed over by now thanks to his inhumane healing rate.

Peter hoisted himself up off the bed, expecting to make his way over to the room’s exit. The key word being - expected. In reality, Peter was only to take one step forward before his muscles spasmed and he found himself sprawled out on the floor. Peter groaned from the pain and his own annoyance as he rubbed at his elbow. There was no mark and the injury wouldn’t last long enough to develop a bruise, but, superpowers or not, no one enjoyed the feeling of hitting their funny bone.

Peter glared at the offending table that he had hit on the way down before using his bedside to pull himself back up to his feet. This time he was more careful in his steps, his movements slow and deliberate as he shuffled across the room. When Peter finally reached the door, his breathing was labored and he could feel himself starting to sweat. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he felt this exhausted. It must have been before the bite.

Peter blinked rapidly and shook his head as if that had been a smart idea. It wasn’t of course. In fact, it was a rather stupid idea. One that leads him to grow even more unbalanced as he felt himself tipping backward for the second time in so many seconds.

Thankfully, fate saved Peter from having to relive the feeling of his butt hitting the floor as a pair of hands gripped his arms midfall.

“Whoa there, Pete.” Peter heard but could not see Tony as his vision had begun to fizzle to grey.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter stuttered, swaying on his feet despite the steady hands of his mentor still gripping his forearms tightly.

“What the hell are you doing, Kid?” Tony said, and Peter felt himself being led back to his bed. “You nearly gave H-Iron Lad a heart attack. His heart monitor went up forty points. Thought he was going into cardiac arrest until I realized he wasn’t the problem.”

Tony was rambling - something he did often - except this time Peter wasn’t able to keep up. The mention of Iron Lad intrigued him though and Peter was immediately resisting against the hands that were pressing him back down into the hospital bed. “Iron - Iron Lad?” Peter struggled to say, “He’s here?”

“Shhh,” Tony hushed him, though not as Aunt May might have, more like one of his school teachers when they heard their favorite student talking during a lecture: demanding and slightly peeved, though not without warmth.

“But Tony,” Peter whined, still unable to see much beyond the starry static. And were his toes supposed to feel tingly like that? Maybe he would be able to answer that if he could actually think straight but he couldn’t seem to do that either. His head was pounding and - wait, was Tony talking to him again?

“-never call me that,” Tony finished his voice sounding amused but Peter’s keen ears were also able to detect the slight tremor that gave away the man’s secret worry. 

Tony was definitely worried about him. Peter smirked - or at least he thought that’s what he was doing. He also could just look like he was going through a stroke. Maybe he was. He couldn’t feel anything. That was a stroke symptom, right? Oh god, was he dying?

**Shut up**

Peter startled, his eyes immediately flitting back open again despite him not realizing they had even closed. He turned to Tony’s hazy outline in the corner of his vision. “Did you - did you hear that?”

“Ah, so it is reciprocal. Friday, remind me to debrief Dr. Lee later when she comes back to the tower,” Tony said before returning his attention to Peter, answering his question, “If you’re not talking about the heart monitor beeping incessantly and giving me a headache then no, I did not.”

“You think you have a headache,” Peter grumbled bitterly, “Try getting your brains nearly exploded.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen. It’s not like you fell off a bridge, broke three of your ribs, sustained a major concussion, and then tried to walk it off a couple of minutes ago like it was a regular Tuesday… oh wait,” Tony deadpanned, “That’s exactly what happened.”

Peter gave another tired attempt at a smile. “The sass is strong in this one,” He said in a voice of feigned seriousness before ruining his own mood with a small giggle. 

Peter didn’t need his complete vision to know that Tony was rolling his eyes. “No, no joking. That’s my thing. I pattened it.”

“Are you s-saying I’m not funny,” Peter dragged his syllables making Tony let out an amused snort.

“In your state?” Tony questioned, “No. Right now I would say you’re more concerning than funny. Maybe even borderline delusional, but hey, that comes with being a genius. Trust me. I would know.”

“Is that why I’m hearing voices in my head?”

**Sleep**

Peter frowned as the voice or presence or feeling or what the hell - he didn’t even know - pressed back into his consciousness like an unwelcome visitor at your front door. Or were they already in his house since they were already in his mind? The mind was a very personal place.

“They’re in my mouse,” Peter whined.

“I’m sorry, what? Was that English?”

“My blouse,” Peter tried again, “Wait, no, my house. They’re in my house.”

“Ah, Peter, Bud, that’s still not any better.”

“My head,” Peter drawled in a ‘duh’ sort of fashion as he dragged out the last word.

“As in telepathy? You can hear him speak?”

“Who’s he? He’s not speaking. He’s - He’s - I can hear feelings. Am I supposed to do that? Can spiders - Can spiders do that, Mr. Stark?”

“Maybe you should get some more rest, Peter,” Tony suggested mildly, drawing the hospital bed sheets back over his suit. 

Peter wanted to fight him on this. He wanted to insist that he didn’t need more rest. He needed to figure out what was happening to him. What had happened at the bridge? Why did he feel so… awful? And who was in his head? Was it Iron Lad? It would explain how he had seen his memories - if those truly were Iron Lad’s real memories. And what about the voice. 

It was so abstract Peter had a hard time calling it a voice. That wasn’t what it was. He couldn’t hear anything in his head; he could only feel. And he could feel this presence, whatever or whoever it was, invading his thoughts unlike anyone had ever done before. They were with him. He couldn’t seem to drive them out. Even now, they were sending him comforted, weighty thoughts, making his eyelids droop and his mind grow quiet. Peter felt warm all over but now he couldn’t tell if that was a reaction to his physical body or just all in his head.

It seemed that the phrase “in his head” was starting to become more tangible than Peter ever thought possible.

**Sleep**

Peter had to admit to himself, the notion was starting to get harder and harder to refuse. 

With one last, long breath before unconsciousness grappled over him once again, Peter let out a groan, a single name slipping through his lips like both a question and a plea. 

“Iron Lad.”

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos? Finally getting to the juicy plot you all have been waiting for (including me!). I know it's a short chapter but it's important that I get Peter's perspective first before jumping to Harley's again. Also, I know this is kind of a late update and it's probably not as action-packed or satisfying as you might have hoped for after a long break but I've been really struggling to put words on a page lately. I think I rewrote the beginning of this chapter two other times. So yeah. I hope y'all will stick with it, and me, and I hope that you enjoy the content I'm providing. I'm kind of just seeing where this story takes me so hopefully the plans I have for the next two chapters turn out as well as I think they will. Anyway, I've rambled for long enough. Again, hope you liked this update. Don't forget to comment on your theories for what will happen next or any wishes and directions you hope for the story to go in. I adore every single one of you! You are so amazing and this story would never get written without you! Hope to see you soon with another update (Maybe in the next week? Cross your fingers!)

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


	15. Chapter 15 - I have my reasons, you have yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley contemplates, from his side of the bond, what the situation he and his partner have found themselves in means for their future. Though he ends up drawing the same conclusion as Spiderman, it is for decidedly different reasons. Unfortunately, before Harley can begin to ask the right questions, let alone get any answers, both he and Tony are hit with some devastating news that leaves them badly shaken.

* * *

Tony and Dr. Lee had been trying to explain the science behind his injuries for over an hour now and Harley was about ready to explode. He couldn’t tell if the headache he was harboring now was from the concussion or the two adults blabbering on in front of him.

“Alright, alright,” Harley groaned, holding his hands up in a way that pleaded for them to just shut their mouths. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. Just be quiet for one second, would ya?”

Harley felt a ping of concern in the back of his mind.

_ Spiderman. _

Harley had gathered that much already from the long diagnosis the doctor and Mr. Stark had given him. It had all been a spitfire of words ricocheted between the two as they spoke in turns which made it hard to follow a lot of the time, especially when neither thought to explain the medical jargon that they used, but Harley was pretty sure he had gotten the gist now.

His and Spiderman’s initial assessment of the device on the bridge had been wrong. The waves that were being emitted were not sound waves. Well, not  _ only  _ sound waves. Apparently, there had been a separate type of wave overlaying the sound waves, some type of anti-gamma matter-wave - whatever that meant. Its effects were still hard to determine but as far as they knew the injuries Harley had sustained as a result of the final explosion included: a mild concussion, internal bruising on his hand and arm (the one that had been crushed by Spiderman’s body when they fell, though, miraculously, had not resulted in any broken bones), and telepathy.

Yes, that’s right, freaking telepathy.

Harley would have told Tony and Dr. Lee that they were both hallucinating due to sleep deprivation, except that it was at that moment that Spiderman decided to enter into his life, or more accurately, his mind.

At first, it had been a jarring experience as Harley was suddenly exposed to millions of memories and emotions. But then, afterward, the feeling of having Spiderman in his head was almost pleasant. It made him feel less alone. His partner had always been a calming presence to Harley but to have him inside his head only increased that feeling tenfold. Even when Spiderman had been freaking out during the first moments of his awakening, Harley couldn’t help but feel his fondness for Spiderman creeping into his senses. It felt like every mannerism and movement and idea that made up Spiderman was there inside his head, cozied up against his consciousness like a security blanket. Spiderman, for lack of a better word, felt like warmth. 

“Sorry, Kiddo,” Tony told him sheepishly, finally curbing his long rant. Then, he turned to Dr. Lee and dismissed her for the day, telling her that she deserved a break after everything that had just happened. She went, though reluctantly, leaving Tony and Harley alone in his room.

Harley looked down at his hands which were busily fiddling with the edge of his comforter. He had so much he wanted to say. It had all been so overwhelming, but now that he actually knew what was happening, all he had were questions.

“What is it, Keener,” Tony asked pointedly.

Harley looked up at him nervously. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He had never been nervous around Tony before, though if he was being honest with himself, it had nothing to do with Tony. Trying to calm his nerves, Harley focused on Spiderman’s presence in the back of his mind. The distant but still tangible hum told him that his partner was sleeping at the moment. Harley briefly wondered what a sleeping Spiderman would look like. Did he snore? Did he drool? Did he like to spread out like a starfish or curl up into a little ball? Also, why was he thinking about this kind of stuff, what was wrong with him?

Harley frown. All of these questions were only the result of a bigger question that he had, one that had been plaguing him for months. It was something he had meant to ask Tony for a while and now seemed as good a time as any.

“Harley?” Tony said, concern seeping into his tone. Harley hadn’t even noticed he had started to zone out.

“Right, sorry,” Harley blinked up at him, “I was just - I was just wondering… I mean, I assume you know the answer, at least it seems like you do but maybe you don’t and I was just thinking that it’s possible, but I don’t know. It’s just -”

“Harley.”

“Do you know who Spiderman is?”

Tony reeled back, blinking rapidly in response. He hadn’t seemed prepared for that question, probably assuming Harley was going to ask him a favor or something after “everything he had been through” - which wasn’t a bad idea actually, but Harley had more pressing matters that he needed to be figured out.

Watching Tony expectantly, Harley waited for more of a reaction. He waited for Tony to burst out laughing or to start rambling on about something or another. What he had not expected was to see a blank sheet fall over Tony’s face, his features forming a tight, concentrated formation. What was more telling, however, was the silence that followed. Tony was considering his answer, something that concerned Harley deeply as this was the same man who had exposed his secret identity at a press conference on a whim. Tony, for all of his intelligence, rarely thought things through, at least when it came to filtering himself. In fact, up until this very moment, Harley was under the impression that Tony had no filter at all.

“Look, Kid, I don’t think it’s a good idea to-” Tony started and Harley already knew where this was going. He hated the betrayal that seemed to fill up his chest at the words, but he couldn’t stop the feeling either.

“Why not?” Harley demanded suddenly, “What reason could you possibly have to keep him from me?” And he hadn’t meant to sound so possessive, really he hadn’t, but the thought of Spiderman being so close to him now, and yet still just out of reach, hurt him. It physically hurt Harley, and he could feel the bitter pull of the physic bond ripple in the back of his mind. 

Harley tried to shove it back, shove it away into his subconsciousness so he wouldn’t have to feel it. Sadly, after all the practice he had had over the years, the act of suppression was quite easy for Harley and a moment later he couldn’t feel the bond at all. He knew it was still there - somehow he just knew - but it left him feeling empty all the same.

“Harley,” Tony said with equal amounts of sternness and empathy, a feat Harley only thought an experienced parent was able to achieve. Harley immediately stiffened. He wasn’t used to parental figures, at least not competent ones, or ones who stuck around for very long. He wasn’t sure if this made him want to trust Tony more or less. 

“Look,” Tony started, “I know I’m at risk of sounding a little hypocritical right now but I think it’s best that your identities be kept a secret.”

“What? Like yours?” Harley couldn’t help but remark bitingly. Tony didn’t look surprised. In fact, he had probably expected it, but that didn’t stop the slow crawl of disappointment that drew over his features, accentuating his worrylines. Disappointment, how parental indeed.

“Harley, the decisions I make with regards to myself are… hardly an example of high praise.”

“If you could go back and change your decision... if you could go back and prevent the world from finding out you’re Iron Man… would you?”

Tony hesitated, and in that brief moment of hesitation, Harley thought he had finally knocked some sense back into the man. Tony wasn’t his father, and in no way should he be allowed to act like one now. It was better for the both of them that Tony reverted back to his ego-centric, worry-less self and stop trying to pander to Harley’s practical and reasonable side, a side Harley wasn’t sure either he or Tony had. For two so-called inventors, the two of them were a rather impulsive and logic-less couple of bastards, at least from Harley’s point of view.

Then, Tony had to go and change the script on him.

“We aren’t as similar as you think, Harley. You’re better,” Tony said, voice unbearably gentle, “You don’t just have a big brain. You actually got a compass inside there too. You make good decisions. You’re a good… you’re a good person.”

Harley shifted uncomfortably. Trying for an air of nonchalance, Harley laid back a bit, lifted his chin more than was strictly necessary, and leveled a raised eyebrow at Tony. “Say that was true. What’s your point to all this?”

“I could list all of the reasons to hide your identity, to hide it from everyone, including Spiderman. I could tell you that it leaves you vulnerable to each other, not just in the suit, but out of it as well. I’m not saying that either of you would knowingly try to harm the other, especially by revealing your identities, but I know teenage boys. I don’t want things to go south and for the two of you to have enough ammunition to ruin the other’s life.”

“We're partners!” Harley shouted vehemently, suddenly feeling the urgent need to remind Tony of this, as if it spoke volumes, as if it portrayed a deep bond filled with trust and unwavering loyalty. But then again, didn’t it? Would Tony understand that’s what he meant?

He certainly seemed to as he began to nod slowly, his hands raised in a form of reconciliation. “I know, I know,” He mollified, but even still, it seemed as if he knew something Harley didn’t, something that kept his mind from being swayed to Harley’s opinion.

“Is that the only reason? You think we’ll go all batshit crazy and turn on each other one day?”

“No,” Tony stated, but he did not begin to elaborate on this or provide any other reasons. Instead, he changed the route of the conversation, once again seeming to skirt around a large chunk of hidden information that Harley felt he was not privy to. “I’m just asking that you consider the situation seriously and from all angles. Would you two really be the unit you’ve become today without that layer of anonymity? You work well together. Adding more variables more often times messes up an experiment rather than helps.”

“We aren’t experiments.”

“Okay, bad analogy, but my point still stands. Why is it so important to you anyway?”

The answer came easier than Harley would have thought, though maybe that was because he didn’t even have to think about it at all as he said, “Because he’s in my head!”

Tony froze at that as if he suddenly remembered the situation. “That does… complicate things. I guess I couldn’t stop you from revealing yourselves if that’s what you really wanted. Hell, you could probably do it right now while I’m talking to you. You haven’t done that, have you?”

“He’s asleep now,” Harley answered, not sure who seemed more disturbed by the frank admission, him or Tony. He pressed on quickly, hoping it will help deviate Tony’s attention from the slight red flush of his cheeks. “Anyway, I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“It’s not?”

Harley shook his head. “No, I don’t think the… bond is that concrete. I can hear him but the words are more implied. It’s guesswork. Mostly, I just feel him.”

“Feel him,” Tony repeated slowly, and Harley flushed even redder under the odd implications of those words. Indeed it sounds a lot worse than he had intended them to.

“Y-Yeah,” Harley stuttered, “Like emotions and stuff. I guess a little bit of the physical stuff too if I can tell when he’s sleeping or if he’s feeling any pain.”

“Is he?” Tony asked, curious and maybe even a little more anxious than before if at all possible, “Is he hurting I mean?”

Harley paused, taking the time to bring their bond back to the forefront of his mind. He winces at the suddenly jarring feeling of Spiderman’s presence re-entering his consciousness. It’s something he still isn’t quite used to though Harley found it hard to imagine it ever being a feeling he  _ could _ get used to.

“That bad?”

  
“No,” Harley hurried to correct him, “Sorry. It’s just a little weird.”

Tony nodded stoically, but the slight furrow of his brow indicated that he didn’t quite understand Harley’s meaning.

“He’s…” Harley took another moment to ponder his response as he searched and sifted through Spiderman’s mind. He didn’t know how he knew to do that, to walk through someone else’s mind so easily, but Harley suspected it had mostly to do with instincts and a little bit to do with it just being Spiderman - someone he knew and understood fairly well already. While he had never done this before, Harley could see how Spiderman’s mind looked familiar in some ways as if he had already seen it before, but in a different light. While in REM, Spiderman’s mind was distant and disordered, Harley could only perceive pieces of him as they passed by and washed over him. Spiderman was overwhelmed it seemed, but that was understandable.

Harley went to retreat back into his own mind when he felt something back into place. Then, Harley felt a brush of warmth rub up against his consciousness. The sensation left Harley tingling with excitement, and yet strangely calmed too as if just being in close proximity with his partner put his mind at ease. Harley could not help his smile.

“Harley?”

Too quickly, Harley snapped back to reality. With his loss of focus, Spiderman’s presence faded back into the back of his mind though not all the way like before, and not without some lingering reluctance.

“He’s good, er, unharmed, I mean,” Harley said quickly, “For the most part anyway. Guess that’s the perk of superhuman healing, huh?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony agreed slowly, his calculating eyes burning Harley’s skin. It felt like being examined under a microscope.

“I’ll leave it alone,” Harley acquiesced without any visible line of reasoning to support such a change of heart. To say Tony looked surprised would be an understatement and his immediate suspicion that proceeded was expected.

“Why?”

Spiderman’s soft but warm presence in the back of Harley’s mind still hummed in the background, just within reach if Harley wanted to pull him back again, which he did but he resisted.

Harley didn’t want to share his reasons with Tony, they felt too personal not to mention slightly embarrassing, but the truth was, he didn’t want to lose this. It wasn’t the bond Harley was referring to but rather Spiderman himself. He could feel all of his partner’s feelings for him stretching across his side of the bond, and Harley was shocked to find that they were all exceedingly positive. He couldn’t help but wonder if it would stay that way if his true identity was revealed? Somehow, even though Harley knew he was the same person, either way, it felt like a dangerous crossing to nowhere good. Iron Lad was a hero? Iron Lad was the partner that Spiderman expected and even liked. But Harley? Harley had an unfortunate track record of disappointing the ones closest to him.

With his dad, his existence alone had been enough to disappoint. With his mom, it had been his lack of achievement, though Harley still couldn’t see how he could have done any better or any different in that small little town they called home. Even Harley’s sister and Tony had been disappointed in him. The day they had found about his escapades as Iron lad… well, Harley was sure that he had sent both of them packing for good.

There were even some - well, really just one - that found  _ everything _ about Harley to be a disappointment. Harley, despite all his efforts, could not shake their voice from his head. Much like Spiderman was now, a certain man from Harley’s past still lingered. The only difference being that Mason Reynolds was both unwelcomed and imagined inside his head. It didn’t matter that Harley hadn’t seen the man in exactly two and a half years, he would always be in Harley’s head, always be there when he screwed up.

So sue him, if Harley wanted just one of the voices in his head to be kind and positive. That kind of light was rare in Harley’s life, and he would be damned if he let it slip away from him.

**Help**

Harley was so startled by the word - or more accurately, the feeling - that echoed loudly in his mind, that he actually flinched. Tony caught the moment, sending him a curious look.

Harley barely noticed, his attention solely focused on the erratic heartbeat of his partner and the fear and adrenaline that raced through the bond and straight into his veins.

Harley lept to his feet, swaying slightly when his vision began to spin.

“Whoa there, Kiddo,” Tony exclaimed, arms reaching out to steady him, “Where’s the fire?”

Harley ignored him, rushing past and out of his bedroom. He didn’t stop once he got to the man corridor of the residence floor which they were currently residing. Harley, not even bothering with the elevator, raced down the maintenance stairs - the hidden ones that the public wasn’t supposed to access or know about - and burst through onto the medial floor in a vicious furry. He wasn’t thinking straight anymore, wasn’t even really paying attention to his surroundings. The only thing that was worth any note to him right now was the feelings of immense and overwhelming fear being broadcasted to him through the bond with Spiderman.

Tony’s shouts from behind him along with the scuffling of feet were all white noise to him as he turned down yet another corridor before stopping at one of the doors at the end of it. Harley didn’t know how he knew but he knew that Spiderman was in this room.

“Stop!” Tony yelled, still halfway down the hall.

Harley knew what opening this door meant. He knew that it meant the end to their hidden identities, to their secrets, and now, faced with the decision, Harley wasn’t quite sure he wanted this to happen. The one thing he was sure about was the fact that Spiderman,  _ his partner _ , needed him.

Without another moment to hesitate, Harley yanked open the door. In his adrenaline-filled haste, Harley forgot his own strength as the door swung open wide, hitting the wall behind it with a resounding clang. Harley bolted inside the room, the second it was wide enough for him to enter.

All motion ceased as he caught a look at what was inside. Harley couldn’t believe it. He didn’t  _ want _ to believe it.

When Tony finally joined him inside the room he stiffened beside Harley, no doubt feeling similar emotions. Whatever either of them had been expecting it certainly hadn’t been this. What did it even mean?

Slowly, Harley made his way across the room, surveying left, right, up, and down. Then, he looked straight ahead, observing the rumpled sheets of the medical bed and the heart monitor that sounded out a long, drawn-out beep - one reserved only for the flatlining patients. Except, there were no flatlining patients in the room.

There was no one at all.

Harley cast a glance at the empty bed where he was sure Spiderman had just been. Then, his eyes shifted to the papers on the bedside table. They blew slightly in the wind - the wind that was sweeping into the room from the open window.

It took Harley longer than usual given his disoriented state to read and analyze the clues. In the end, there was only one reasonable explanation for all of this.

Spiderman was missing.

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos! It's your favorite author here bringing you another overdue update. I would apologize but if you're an older reader you already know the routine. I always deliver, I just don't have the best timing. Sad but true. Anyway, hope you liked this chapter. It's been a while since I've written for this story so it took me some getting used as I tried to remember the characters and their motivations. Ngl, I might have had to re-read some old chapters. Anyway, pleaspleaseplease let me know what you think!

I really want to hear some feedback. Tell me if I'm headed in the right direction or if when you're reading you're going "Whoa there, author, not that way!" 

I hope you aren't thinking that but if you are please let me know.

Also any wishes or further insights, maybe even comments on what you liked, are also greatly appreciated.

As always...

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


	16. Chapter 16 - What you can't escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disoriented and out of control, Peter fights against a threat he can't escape. 
> 
> An unexpected ally comes to help.

* * *

A/N:

Two updates in two days??!!?? I know you're proud.

Flew through this chapter and didn't bother to check for any errors so...

Anyway, it's wild!

Have fun ;)

* * *

There was a beeping noise.

At first, Peter barely even noticed it. He was… well, he couldn’t really remember what exactly he was doing, but he was too distracted to really pay attention to the noise. But then, it got louder, more persistent. The sound made Peter’s toes curl into the soles of his feet and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He didn’t like the sound, whatever it was.

Peter, trying to block out the noise, started to walk away, hoping that the farther away he got from the source the quieter it would be. Except, that was when Peter realized that he could not move. Looking down, Peter saw that he was covered in thick, sticky spider webs from the waist down. Peter tried to rip his body free from the webs but they did not budge. Suddenly, the beeping sound was getting louder, faster. Heart beginning to race, Peter tugged again. He flailed helplessly amidst the webs but they did not move. If anything, Peter could have sworn he felt them tightening around him.

Harder and harder Peter pulled. The sound was so loud now that it practically pounded in his skull. It was a bomb, Peter’s brain supplied for him. It was a bomb, just like the one from the bridge. The people from the syndicate had found him and now he was going to die.

Looking around desperately, Peter spotted a figure in the close distance. His vision was too blurry to make out who it was. Why was his vision blurry? Was he crying?

Suddenly, the figure came into focus, just as quickly and as easily as adjusting a camera lens. The person was a young man. It took Peter a moment to recognize why the man was so familiar. It was the son of a taco vendor down on 49th street. Peter stopped by the kart every Tuesday with Ned and MJ but the vendor’s son was rarely ever there. Why was he here now?

The young man who Peter didn’t even know the name of suddenly turned to look at Peter. His usually expressionless face was struck with insurmountable fear.

“Help me!” The man cried, reaching out for Peter’s hand.

Again, Peter tried forcefully to tug himself from the spidery bonds that held him in place.

“They know! They Know!”

Peter didn’t know what this guy was trying to say. Who knows? What were they talking about? The man was saying something else now, but the beeping of the bomb beside him was keeping any other words from reaching his ears.

Peter’s vision was flashing red now. The light was emanating from the bomb, flashing every time a beep sounded. Peter looked down at the large, intimidating device. It was the size of a grand piano just without its legs. How had he missed that before? Had it been right beside him the whole time.

Beep. Flash. Beep. Flash.

Louder. Faster. The bomb was growing in size. The taco vendor’s son was drifting farther and farther away. No. Nono. Nono. No.

“Don’t leave me,” Peter cried, “Come back!”

_Help_

At that moment, Peter was forcefully ripped forward. Head spinning, body aching, and vision still blurred, Peter found himself sitting in a hospital bed.

The beeping… the beeping was still there, right beside him. He had to get away. He had to get away from the bomb. He didn’t want to blow up, not again. He couldn’t face it alone without his partner here to save him.

Peter ripped the spider webs from his body. This time he was successful though he hadn’t been prepared for them to sting so badly. It was like they had been stuck inside his skin, like needles. 

Suddenly, the beeping flatlined.

Thinking that that meant the bomb was just seconds away from exploding, Peter didn’t think as he tore from the bed and crashed through the window in front of him. The cold air hit him immediately, and for a moment, Peter was caught in a freefall, wind rushing past him at alarming speeds as he plummeted towards the New York concrete below. Using whatever sanity he had left, Peter had enough mind to navigate himself towards the side of the building, hands, and feet reaching out until he grasped the side of the building and stuck there. He wasn’t falling anymore, but he still wasn’t safe. Even in his anxiety-ridden brain, Peter knew that he was exposed. Anyone could look up and see him now. Even worse, the syndicate could be watching.

Slowly, steadily, Peter crawled sideways until he found himself peering into a lab. It was unoccupied and mostly bare save for a couple of tables covered with equipment, or at least, Peter assumed it was equipment as there were large tarps draped over the oddly protruding objects atop the tables.

Peter unstuck one of his hands, slamming it into the glass with the full force of a superhuman-spider mutant. It shattered just as easily as the first window had. Peter cleared away the sharp edges of the glass, cutting himself several times due to his lack of caution before he finally tumbled through the opening. He landed hard on his back, graceless, injured, and panting. His heartbeat had yet to calm down still and in the stillness of the moment, Peter was uncomfortably aware of just how hard it was working inside his chest. It seemed to bounce between his ribcage and his skin like a spastic, high-energy bouncy ball.

Peter sucked in a sharp breath. Despite the rapid beating of his heart, it still felt like he was barely getting enough oxygen to his lungs. He was afraid; he was deeply afraid, though it was hard to know why since there was no immediate danger to be had.

He was frozen, unmoving. Even if Peter had started to hear that beeping again, he doubted he’d be able to get up off the floor. He doubted he could even manage a flinch. Maybe that’s why he had absolutely no physical reaction to the voice that sounded quite unexpectedly from the hidden ceiling speakers in the room.

“Mr. Parker, help is on the way. Please, attempt to relax your body. You have sustained several injuries and any movement would be unwise.” The AI’s voice was calm and robotic, but Peter could have sworn he almost detected a hint of worry in it.

He felt the absurd urge to laugh. Move? Did Friday really think he was going anywhere any time soon? And help, what did that mean? Who was coming?

Peter didn’t have to wait very long to find out as the door to the lab swung open. Peter heard a startled exclamation before the sound of hurried footsteps came closer, stopping just near his head. Peter couldn’t even be bothered to turn and face them. It didn’t matter though because soon they were kneeling next to him, crowding closer until a face appeared in Peter’s vision.

“Ah, Jesus, Kid! Are you alright? What happened?”

Peter was surprised to find that he was staring into the face of none other than Sam Wilson. He had met the guy once, at an airport, though not the way one usually meets people at an airport. They had both been in their full suits at the time so Peter doubted that Sam knew who he was talking to, but Peter had read the guy’s file - he had read all of the Avengers' files on Tony’s insistence before the airport fight - so he knew what he looked like in civilian form.

“I swung through a window,” Peter half groaned, half giggled, a strange mixture of sounds that he was sure had never left anyone’s mouth before.

Sam’s face took on many different expressions, going from confusion to surprise to shock to something tight and unreadable. He seemed to pause for a moment before responding slowly and clearly, something that Peter’s addled mind was grateful for. “You’re him… aren’t you?”

Peter did an awkward impression of a nod from where his head still rested on the floor. “I’m Peter Man, er, Spider, Parker, Ugh.” 

Peter huffed. “I’m Peter.”

Sam’s face softened, shooting the boy a small smile. “Nice to see you again, Peter. Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” Peter repeated dutifully.

Sam nodded before his face turned serious once again. He surveyed Peter’s bloodied and bruised form with calculatingly hard eyes. If he seemed surprised or disturbed by the extent of Peter’s injuries, he did not show it.

Looking back up at Peter’s face, Sam asked, “What are you feeling right now?”

“Um, pain?”

Sam’s lips tightened. He leaned over and pressed a hand against Peter’s forehead. The hand felt warm against Peter’s clammy skin. Then, Peter felt the hand travel down to his neck and feel his pulse point. “Do you feel nauseous at all?”

Peter thought long and hard about the question. His body was so out of whack that it took him a while to respond, and the answer was less than reassuring. “I don’t - I don’t know. I don’t think so?”

Sam frowned.

“I am a little thirsty though.”

Sighing, Sam drew back from Peter’s neck and sat back on his heels. “I figured as much. Between the clammy, pale skin, the rapid pulse, and obvious fatigue, it’s pretty hard to miss.”

“Miss what?”

“You’re in shock,” Sam said gently, “Whether it’s from your injuries or something else I don’t know, but that doesn’t really matter. I’m going to go get something to treat your wounds. For now, just work on getting your heart rate down. Focus on your chest, try to get it to rise and fall slowly.”

“Mr. Wilson,” Friday said, “If it would be helpful, there is a first aid kit located under the tarp on the fourth table to the right of the door.”

“Thanks,” Sam said a little awkwardly as he stood up. Turning back to Peter he said again, “Focus on your chest, Peter. It’ll help. Trust me.”

As Sam disappeared from view Peter did as he was told. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the muscles in his body, forcing them to relax as he inhaled and exhaled. The exercise was harder than it should have been. He was restless, too restless, and his body was still on high alert despite there no longer being a threat. As Peter was breathing though, he stopped short when he realized it had been a dream, or at least, part of it had. Then, he was forced to face the reality that there probably hadn’t been a bomb in the first place. Somehow that left Peter feeling embarrassed but no less anxious.

As Peter continued doing his breathing exercise, getting more and more frustrated by the minute, he felt a sudden sense of relief wash over him. It took him a moment to process where the feeling was coming from.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, Peter felt it. Iron Lad. He had forgotten, amidst his panic, that his partner was still there, stuck inside his head like a catchy song you just couldn’t forget. Except, unlike those catchy songs, Iron Lad’s presence was very much welcomed. Slowly but surely, Peter felt himself relax, turning his focus on his partner and filtering out the rest.

It felt as if his partner was walking him through the process. If it was Peter’s imagination or not, it was hard to tell, but it almost seemed as if Iron Lad was regulating his breathing too, slowing his body and mind as an example for Peter to emulate. Peter followed his partner, finally feeling the oxygen flood his lungs enough to relieve him of some of his residual panic. Even Iron Lad’s mind seemed calm, not slow, just resolute and sure, sending waves of confidence and warmth across the bond.

When Sam finally came back to crouch beside him again, Peter’s breathing was almost completely back to normal and his mind was more relaxed than it had been before.

“Well done, Pete,” Sam praised when he saw the boy’s steady breathing, “You’ve done a really good job regulating yourself… have you… had to do this before?”

The question was tinged with worry and what seemed to be guilt, though Peter didn’t understand why.

“N-No. It was my partner,” Peter supplied, making Sam frown in confusion, “He’s, uh, in my head? We’re telepathically linked.”

Sam blinked. “Yeah, okay, whatever you say, Peter.”

Then, Sam was addressing his wounds. First, he started with the ones on Peter’s arm. They left trails of oozing blood all the way from his elbow down to his wrist.

“What are these from?”

Peter stared down at his arms blankly, assessing the wounds. “IV needles.”

Sam seemed to give a small sigh of relief before he stiffened, pausing in his work. “Wait, you were in the medical wing before this? Why the hell are you here? What made you think jumping out a window was a sane idea in any reality?”

Peter laughed self-deprecatingly. “I thought the heart rate monitor was a bomb.”

Anyone else would have probably looked at him like he was nuts. Probably would have called him an idiot or told him he had been over-reacting. Sam just nodded slowly with a horrible understanding in his eyes as if this news did not surprise him in the least. It was at that moment Peter was reminded about Sam’s file, where he was stationed, what he must have seen and experienced. It made Peter unreasonably glad that Sam had been the one to find him. It was easier this way. At least now he knew he wasn’t completely insane. There was someone who could understand the very real troubles that lay inside the human psyche. 

“You’re gonna be alright, Peter.”

And with that, the last of Peter’s fear and panic and adrenaline slipped away, leaving him sore and bone-tired. The tugs on his arms as Sam bandaged him up were uncomfortable but not too much so. He knew Sam was being as careful as he could, and the wounds were already starting to feel better. Peter rested his head back on the ground and closed his eyes.

“Sam?” Peter said, just before he drifted back to sleep. 

“Yes, Peter,” Sam replied.

“You’re gonna stay right? I don’t want to wake up and do something crazy again. I mean, you don’t have to but-”

“I’ve still got to patch you up. Don’t worry, Peter. You’re safe to go back to sleep. I’ll be sure to wake you up again if you get in too deep. I promise.”

Peter opened his eyes, smiling his first smile since waking up. “I like you, man.”

Sam smiled too. “You ain’t too bad yourself. Now, get some sleep.”

Peter didn’t have to be told twice as he sunk back into unconsciousness, this time making sure to stay close to Iron lad inside his mind, his partner’s presence enough to drive back any unwanted emotions that threatened to come back in and absorb into his body.

Peter sighed. He felt safe.

* * *

A/N:

What's up, Kiddos? Back again for another update! Bet you didn't see that coming? ; )

I hope you enjoyed this chapter even if it was a little angsty. That's just how I roll.

Also, raise your hand if you love Sam Wilson and are excited for his new show to come out! Me! I'm raising my hand!

What do you guys think? Want to see more Avengers in this fic? Want to see more of Sam Wilson? Maybe you'd prefer more IronFam bonding time or more with Peter's school friends?

Does anyone really want to see Flash Tompson though? Yuck.

Hope you liked this chapter. I certainly did! See y'all soon! (Maybe)

Love All,

Your Favorite Author


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